Fix You
by VixD
Summary: Sherlock Lives! Not everyone is happy with his return, and he isn't returning to a life he expects. With his best friend getting married, the love of his life estranged with John, and his daughter already moved on, Sherlock struggles to get back into their lives. [SherlockxOC] IN PROGRESS. Sequel of Auburn Sky.
1. Chapter 1

The thundering vibrations dug into the dirt, wind hitting her face as she bit her lip counting to herself. At the end of our counting to zero, she raised her body forward against the dark chocolate braided mane. The front hooves lifted in the air as the back followed in suit, as if ready to fly. Her gloved fists tightened onto the reins as she exhaled to prepare for the impact of the landing. Flying over the large dead long, the front hooves thudded into the sand and dirt with the back legs following after.

"Good job, Osiris!" The ten year old cheered, leaning over to pat his neck.

She pulled the reins to slow her lusitano horse, walking over to the fence. The sun shining through the cold clouds made the buckskin coat shine like gold, a chilly breeze made the girl shudder. Her riding apparel wasn't the best for the coming winter weather to arrive in a few months.

Charlie grinned standing at the fence as she approached him. His speed is going great." She removed her hair letting the long dark hair fall down her back. "You sure you rather jump than race?"

Dally grinned at him, scratching Osiris' neck. "I don't think he can decide himself. He wants to get going but loves jumping so much."

Charcled shrugged in his thick coat. "He's still young, he'll figure it out." He reached out gently petting his snout. "It's up to you to lead him."

Dally nodded, pulling the reins to go another round.

Charlie watched her bring up speed on Osiris as he felt someone take his hat off his head. He glared at the taller older teen who gave a cheeky grin and stood on the fence post. "Watching your girlfriend trot around in circles, short stuff?"

Charlie's cousin, Michael cackled as he started bending the rim of Charlie's hat. He was much taller and about a year older than his twelve year old cousin. It made him think he could run the place over his cousin and his little girlfriend. Being the biggest, oldest, and -in his mind- the smartest. His bright blue eyes and blond hair making him stand out.

"She's teaching Osiris how to jump." He told Michael.

The teen frowned, then laughed. Charlie gave glare, snatching his hat back and placing it on his gingered head. "You think she can't do it?"

He snorted, leaning back on the fence with his hands gripping the wood. "That, and she named the horse a dumb name." He shrugged and bounced off the fence. "But, her name is stupid too. They match well together."

Michael reached over, flipping Charlie's hat off making it fall into the jumping area. Charlie grumbled and glared back at his cousin who laughed his way back to the horse stables.

"Just ignore him, Charlie." He turned seeing an unfazed Dally trotting about. She must have heard it all but didn't find it worth to respond.

"Easy for you." He retorted, Dally climbed off and picked up his hat handing it to him. "He's not staying at your place."

Dally shrugged, climbing up and hanging off the wood. She smiled, making Charlie's heart pound his chest. "True, but he'll be heading back home in a few weeks, right?"

He nodded, "Yeah. He was here for the Summer, and somehow stuck around longer." Charlie grumbled getting off the fence as he placed his hat back on.

Dally climbed off as Charlie opened the gate for her to lead Osiris out of the pen. It was time to take him back to the stables. "The holidays are coming up, aren't you going to his place?"

"Canada? Yeah." Charlie hung his head with a sigh. "Every year my mom's side of the family usually come here. But with my Grandfather sick, it was decided we go to Calgary until he gets better."

Dally nodded, with no grandparents that she knew, it was unknown what that feeling was like. She was sure her father had living parents, but she nor Uncle Mycroft ever mentioned them. Her mother had a living mother, but they were estranged. Her last Christmas was spent with Henry at home. Uncle Curtis and his girlfriend came to visit. She was to visit Uncle Mycroft but a winter storm kept them stuck in Dartmoor.

"What will you be doing for the holidays?" Charlie asked, knowing the family complications in her life.

Dally shrugged, "Mom hasn't mentioned it. It was really crazy last year." she chuckled at the memory.

They placed Osiris into his stable, after checking how clean it was. Dally locked the gate and fed him some cookies she kept in her pockets. "Great job, boy." She rubbed his snout as he ate, snickering contently.

"You two really connected fast." Charlies commented, Dally giggled at the praising tone he held. Her cheeks warmed as she dried her hands of any residue from feeding.

"He came from a pretty bad life, we thought he'd never ride again." He said, the echoed clicking of his hooves as Osiris walked over to eat his hay.

Dally remembered that day; Not even a month after moving, this beautiful golden horse came into the ranch. It's dark chocolate main, tail and legs captured her sight as she was still learning to ride on the ponies. Despite told the horse had to adjust to a new home from an abused one, she couldn't stop herself from sneaking visits. Feeding him cookies and apples, despite claimed to be too dangerous from his PTSD.

He was alone, and would kick and cry when left alone, but that's what the trainers said to do. Dally grinned when she thought of sneaking him out of his stable. He near rode off with her leading to a broken leg, but once she was hurt he stopped running. Dally believes to this day he felt bad for hurting her. He lowered his head, nickering at her and soon the screaming of her and the horse caught attention. Despite the pain, bed rest, and scolding by her mother, Dally would do it again.

From then on, Osiris calmed and only around Dally or the trainers, including Charlie. Over time she trained with her and starting jumping this past Summer.

"He just needed someone who understood him." Dally said, clicking her tongue.

Osiris gladly came over, nuzzling his nose against her cheek and hair. She giggled at the tickling feeling and kissed the snout of Osiris. Charlie smiled at the sight of his friend.

* * *

"Really, Helena. Why worry about me this holiday?" Henry asked, as he drove with her to pick Dally up. He had just picked her up at work at the Cross Keys, and he felt the need to have this conversation.

She sat in the passenger seat, fixing her chin length auburn hair. It was a bit of a mess, as she tried to pin the thick mass of her bangs out of her face to the left of her face. She placed her glasses on, having to take them off to fix her hair.

"I don't want you to be all alone, Henry." She told, giving him a side smile.

Henry shrugged, hands loosely on the wheel. "I'm used to that, Helena. What about your family and friends in London?"

"You can always come with us." Helena offered, hands in her lap of her black slacks, feeling relaxed her shift was over. Her maroon long sleeve and black vest over it, she usually worked as a waitress and helped any guest staying.

When Helena first took the job, some guests knew her as the homeless thief that aided Sherlock Holmes. They asked questions such as if Sherlock was a real detective and what it was like working with him. A few had the gall to ask if he was pretty good in bed, Helena was baffled but handled them well with a boot to the door. As time went on, the questions stopped and she was just referred to as Helena the waitress. She caught onto the job fast and enjoyed it very much. At times she missed the hustle and bustle of London when times were slow at Cross Keys. But it gave her time to enjoy the clear air and open range of the countryside.

The new country girl was happy to see Dally adjust well into her new life. She easily took to horse riding, and was extremely proud to see her advance so fast. She was already ten- Ten years old! Soon she'd be a teenager before she knew it!

Time flew so much, Helena leaned her head back with a sigh and closed her eyes. It had been about two years since his death. The thought of him still made her heart ache and the urge to cry. But, she kept strong for her and Dally.

Moving here was a wonder of a treatment for her pain- and Dally's. She was so much happier, had friends again, especially that Charlie fellow. They enjoyed riding horses together, and she introduced him to mystery novels. Dally would nitpick the plots and murders, just like her father did. If anyone didn't know it, one wouldn't even think Dally Holmes was his adopted daughter.

"Helena?"

She was so deep into her thoughts she hadn't noticed they've sat there in the ranch's dirt lot for a few minutes. She blinked and adjusted her glasses, glancing to Henry. He was standing outside the car, awaiting her as he stuck his head through the window.

"Coming?"

She nodded and unbuckled herself, climbing out of the car. She wrapped her coat tightly around her and walked with Henry at her side. He guided her to the stables. Not that she wouldn't know, but over the past two years Helena's eyesight had gotten worse. She was still able to see as she wished, but had to turn her head with the corners of her sight faded. This occurred around last New Years, a shock to wake up to. Helena thought she was hung over, but found her sight hadn't changed and new it was fading from then on.

Helena was in need to get her eyes examined. Which meant she had to take a trip to London to visit her doctor.

"Hey, Dally!" Helena greeted, seeing her talking with Charlie at Osiris' stable.

"Mom!" She beamed, running over and hugging Helena tightly.

* * *

Somewhere in the dead of night Serbia, a session was being held to torture a man. His long dark stringy hair fell over his face.. They beat him, cut him, whipped him, but no answer would come from their victim. Arms stretched out, his was chained as if ready to be crucified like Jesus himself. Despite the sweat and blood that stained his bare back and chest, he resisted to speak an utter word to his interrogators.

The man actually doing the work demanded for answers in his thick Serbian language. It wasn't as if the tortured man couldn't understand, he knew every word they yelled and hissed into his ears. The man would just rather refuse to answer and take the brutal beatings.

The rough Serbian demands why he broke into their territory, captured in the thick woods in the country. Mumbling was heard, making the interrogator stomp over. He gripped his thick dark locks and ducked his head to hear the whispers.

He proved to speak the language, informing the man not the answer he was looking for. The other man in the room, sitting quietly demanded in the same language to know what he's saying. The interrogator says the man mentioned the electric in his bathroom wasn't working, but most of all his wife is having an affair with his next-door neighbor. The scraggly haired man speaks again, adding an additional amount of this personal fact. If he leaves now, he can catch them at his home.

Like fish to a worm, the interrogator took the bait and rushed out of the room. With ease steps the quiet man stood and approached the chained man. He grabbed his hair and bent down, and in perfect posh English whispered to the man.

"There's an underground terrorist network active in London and a massive attack is imminent. Sorry, but the holiday is over." In sheep's wool to fool the Serbians, Mycroft Holmes stood and grinned.

"Brother dear, back to Baker street. Sherlock Holmes."

Said detective smirked, awaiting to hear when it'd be ready for him to return home. For Sherlock Holmes lives.

* * *

**Hello and welcome to book 2 of my Sherlock Helena series! This was a joy to write again and excited to get back into this!**

**Now, I want to inform you all of an incident that recently occurred. Anyone in the US or close to the East Coast know we've had some really intense storms and horribly flooding in my home state, New Jersey. Thankfully, I've avoided the highly flooded areas, not living close to any lakes. This doesn't mean I wasn't affected. The horrible rain and storm had caused a build up of a leaking in my roof into the ceiling of my room. On Wednesday of last week, I woke up to find a considerable sized crack in my ceiling. It caused about a large gaping hole in my room, the ceiling collapsed onto my bookshelf and bed causing a flood into my carpet from the pent up water.**

**I'm okay, and so is my dog who was in the room. If I hadn't woken up in time, the drywall would've fallen right on top of me in my bed. Nothing too much was lost, we got my room vacuumed and the hole is still there. We're waiting to see if the problem with my roof has been fixed. The carpet has to be replaced ruined by the collected water and prevent mold from growing. I've spent the last week clearing my furniture and personal items. The only things damaged was my Disney plush collection and some clothes that we cleaned. But the worst loss was 2 years worth of notes and stories that got wet in the damage. I was devastated!**

**My RDR2 notes and storyline was the only things recovered, but my Sherlock and Walking Dead notes and storyline are all gone. I'm still upset looking back. So I don't know what I wrote for upcoming on The Walking Dead, so that will be held off until I try to figure out what to do with it. Thankfully I remember my Sherlock storyline and got new notebooks and got to work right away.**

**I'll be giving updates on my room. I'm currently staying in my little sister's old room. Mattress on the floor and and missing the comfort of my room deeply. But it could've been worse, so I'm glad it was just this. Enjoy book two: Fix You.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Glad to have seen a lot of you guys found the story! I don't know how many chapters this story will have, expect it to be probably longer than the last story. I own the series 3 of Sherlock on DVD but the problem is its UK region, I can't use them on anything in my house. So I plan to buy a US region and sell this one. Enjoy!**

* * *

"Osiris has really improved since we started him on jumping." Dally told, sitting at the kitchen table with Henry and Helena.

Dally picked Taiwanese food, so they got ingredients and her and Helena recreated some beef noodle soup. Dally's hair was wet and in a ponytail after getting a shower a few minutes ago. Dressed in a shirt and dark sweatpants ready to relax before bed.

"Any jumping competitions we should be prepared to attend?" Henry asked her.

Dally waved her fork at him. "I won't be doing anything cool like that for a while. Charlie said he can't do any races until he's old enough."

Helena swallowed, "Yeah, but you can enter next year's jumping competition." she encouraged.

Dally shrugged, feeling sheepish. "I've only been riding for a year. I should wait a little longer before I-"

"Jump into things?" Henry joked, earning a groan from the girls.

"Jesus, Henry. That was bad." Helena chuckled, flicking garnish at him. Henry chuckled as Dally giggled at the them.

Helena sipped her water, humming as she remembered something. "I'll be heading into London tomorrow."

Dally's head shot up, but she didn't say anything with her mouth full. Henry glanced to her then to Helena. "Doctor's appointment?"

She nodded, "I should be seen more often. But, my doctor is in London and refuses to to a doctor's call so far out." Helena explained with slight humor in her words.

"Why don't you transfer for different doctor?" Dally asked, taking some beef and chewing on it.

Helena shrugged. "It's hard to do so. I don't want to bother Mycroft more than I already do." She stirred some of the broth in her bowl and gave Dally a curious look. "Want to come with me? Can visit Mycroft while I get checked out."

Dally shook her head, taking her glass of lemonade. "I've got to keep up with my piano lessons this week." She told. "Plus a lot of essays my tutor set me up with."

Helena put her utensil down and leaned onto the table with her elbows. "You sure? I was thinking of visiting Mrs. Hudson, Molly, Lestrade-"

"No, I'm too busy." She quickly declined. Dally picked up her bowl and cleaned it out in the sink. "But, give them my regards, mom." She told, sipping her lemonade and heading upstairs to her room, the furry cat Maggie following after.

Helena sighed, leaning her chin into her palm. Henry looked to her, "I had a feeling she wouldn't want to go." he told her.

"I'm not going to push her." Helena stood, taking her bowl and glass to wash out in the sink. "I did give her this new life, why should I expect her to take a step back into her old life?"

Henry stood, helping her with the dishes as he opened the dishwasher. "Dally took to the country like she lived here before. Wouldn't even guess she was a city kid."

Helena turned her head to give him a look. "That's because she's trying to forget about her life in the city."

He nodded, understanding what she meant. Most of Dally's life was in an orphanage, she hadn't even spent a whole year with her father before his death. Then spent two years with Helena as her mom and her life over here.

"I think she's scared I want her to move back to London." Helena told, rinsing bowls and pans before handing them to Henry who placed them into the racks.

Henry frowned, "I wouldn't say that." he told. "I think your just thinking too much."

She raised a brow at him, but nodded. "I'll just set my alarm and head to the first train out tomorrow morning." Helena handed him the utensils and got a dish towel off the faucet to dry her hands.

"Quick trip?" He asked, closing the dishwasher and setting the time on the large appliance.

Helena turned, leaning back on the counter. "I called my doctor, he can take me in the next two days."

"Why not leave then?" He asked.

She placed the towel onto the facet to dry and crossed her arms. "I want to just see the old gang, Molly got excited and planned a lunch time for us. Girls day out, she said." She quirked her lips into a grin. "Never had that before."

Henry smiled, patting her arm. "You deserve to see your friends. You've done nothing but work and cook, clean and take care of Dally. Never give yourself time to relax."

She didn't like to relax, that's how Helena was. Before Sherlock, she wasn't one to relax. She honestly missed the adrenaline rush of city life, the feel of the chase- Be it after a criminal or the days when Lestrade chased her. She grinned the memory, looking up at Henry.

"I take my motherly duty seriously." She told, earning a chuckle from her friend. Helena gave a soft pat to his arm. "I'm gonna go pack and head to bed."

Henry nodded, watching her head upstairs to her room. Helena entered her room and shut the door, heaving a sigh. Where did she keep her suitcase?

Helena checked under bed and dressers, finally finding it in her closet. Her room was spacious, and had been decorated to her taste over her two years here. The large queen sized bed with red and gold bed sheets set sat against the wall to the right of the room. The walls were cream white, but with light brown carpet. The curtains held the same colors as her bed set but with intricate swirling details that reminded her of the walls back at the flat. Unlike Dally's room that was near covered in horse posters and concert events, Helena's walls were a tad bare. The only things framed and hung were photos taken of her small family or portraits of London. The painting of the London Eye with its dark night sky and bright red lights hung above her bed. She loved staring at it when late at night. The Shard tower was another portrait hung above her dresser, reminding her of the last building she scaled before her meeting Sherlock.

Going through her clothing, she knew the city would be freezing this time of year. Helena collected many jumpers, jeans, and long sleeves to pack. She neatly folded them, along with her pack of travel toiletries she'd need- shampoo, conditioner, soap, toothpaste, ect.

Going back in, she paused at the sight of two items in her closet. She smiled sadly at the lovely silk robe she wore every night before bed. Helena had the first habit of sleeping with it on. She worried about ruining the material, and got herself to wear it less in bed and more when she stayed at home. Because of her constant inability to relax, she wore it less and less to never taking it out. Helena decided to bring it, since she was sure to be spending her nights at the hotel she'd be staying at.

After packing it, her eyes sat on the distinct blue scarf hanging in the closet. She felt her chest hurt, approaching the scarf and letting her fingers skim the material. It was as if Sherlock held her when she wore it. Despite the ends frying and color fading, she refused to ever throw it away or replace it.

Helena took it off its hanger, rubbing her fingers against the thin soft material, and sat on her bed. Her lips tugged to her sad smile, her eyes glassy wanting to release its tears. He wore this scarf everywhere, to every crime scene and every investigation. She remembered Sherlock using this to help her broken arm that one time, using it as a sling. The many times he knotted it around his neck, then whip it off like it was in his constant way. She raised the fabric up against her cheek, the smell of his scent had died down long ago but she remembered it distinctly. His musk was a mix of tobacco, leather, and somehow the chemicals he worked with blended into him as if he was wearing a flower everyday. Helena swore he wore some sort of cologne to hide the chemical and tobacco scent, a hint of rose wood and caramel peeked her memory of him.

She returned to reality feeling her tears trailing down her cheeks. Helena wiped her eyes and placed the scarf on the bedside. She sighed, closing her suitcase and placing it by the door. Tomorrow she'd return to her home city, London.

* * *

"You have been busy, haven't you?" Mycroft hummed as he awaited at his desk while his dear little brother was getting a shave.

Sherlock got himself cleaned up, a haircut and all was left was to shave what little facial hair he had grown. Holding the newspaper he was reading, he put it down and let the barber finish. "Moriarty's network. Took me two years to dismantle it."

Mycroft looked up from looking at the files of the work he handled in Serbia. "And you're confident you have?" He asked.

"The Serbian side was the last piece of the puzzle." He informed.

"Yes." Mycroft gave a snide grin. "You got yourself deep there with Baron Maupertuis." Sherlock resisted to grin himself so he wouldn't get cut by the barber's blade. "Quite a scheme."

"Colossal." Sherlock added.

"Anyway-" Mycroft folded the paper and tossed it onto his desk. "You're safe now." Sherlock gave a careless hum, though Mycroft felt underappreciated. "A small 'thank you' wouldn't go amiss." He commented.

"What for?" Sherlock asked, knowing he was going to play the 'big brother card on him.

"For wading in." Mycroft answered. "In case you've forgotten, field work is not my natural milieu."

Sherlock held a hand up to stop the barber, with a groan as his body was still sore from the torture he glared his older brother. "Wading in? You sat there and watched me being beaten to a pulp."

Mycroft frowned at the sudden accusation he was given. "I got you out."

"No, I got me out." He corrected. Why didn't you intervene sooner?"

"I couldn't risk giving myself away, could I?" He retorted, as if the answer was obvious enough for Sherlock to understand. "It would have ruined everything."

Despite the logic in his answer, Sherlock got defensive and couldn't trust his word. His head tilted, as if unhinging the truth. "You were enjoying it."

"Nonsense." Mycroft dismissed.

"_Definitely_ enjoying it." Sherlock repeated.

Mycroft adjusted in his chair, folding his hands on the desk and leaning over at his brother. "Listen, do you have any idea what it was like, Sherlock, going _undercover_?" He spat the word with contempt. "Smuggling my way into their ranks like that? The noise, the people!"

Sherlock sighed, leaning back with a small shake of his head. Had to make it about him, typical Mycroft. He sighed, wishing the soreness to ease off already. "I didn't know you spoke Serbian." He admitted, allowing the barber to finish.

"I didn't." Mycroft told, relaxing in his seat once the tension eased between the two. "But the language has a Slavic root. Frequent Turkish and German loan words." He shrugged. "Took me a couple of hours."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows unable to shrug. "You're slipping." He commented.

Mycroft gave a false smile, did he miss his little brother pointing out his mistakes? Possibly. "Middle-age, brother mine. Comes to us all."

The door clicked heavily, Sherlock glanced up seeing Mycroft's new blonde assistant with his fresh new suit.

* * *

"I'll call when I arrive." Helena told, leaning down to kiss Dally's head. She smiled up at her mother as she patted her cheek. "Shall I bring back Mrs. Hudson's biscuits?"

Dally beamed, jumping on the balls of her heels. "Oh, I miss them so much!"

Henry patted Dally's shoulder, smiling at her. One arriving or leaving the station would think this was a mother off leaving her husband and child. It looked normal to anyone's view as they passed in and out of the station.

"Don't forget to give Mrs. Hudson the photo." Dally reminded, swinging her hands behind her back.

Helena nodded, patting her inner coat pocket. "Got it right here, safe and sound." She smiled to Henry and gave him a hug. "Make sure she does her homework." She told him.

Henry chuckled pulling away as Dally gave a look beside him. "To think we had a party ready." He joked, earning a giggle from the girls.

Helena picked up her suitcase and tightened her blue faded scarf around her neck. They walked with her to the train as she climbed on. The train soon started to move, Helena walked down the corridor and found an empty car. She placed her bag above the head rack, then opened the window to stick her head out and wave to the two. They waved back, the train gaining speed to head back to London.

Helena sat down and checked her wrist watch seeing it was near 10 that morning. She'd arrive at Paddington Station around late noon. She heaved a long sigh and leaned back, looking out the window. Soon the rolling green hills will turn to tall glass buildings. Thankfully she took a sick pill before getting to the station, still unable to handle train rides. Helena should really invent in a license and car, she would rather just drive all the way to London than the train. Sure, it would be longer but she wouldn't have to pop these damn pills every time.

Feeling her glasses were dirty, Helena removed them and took her cleaning cloth from her pocket and rubbed the lenses clean. She placed them down on the table of the car room, looking across from her at the center of the seat. Her sight had gone a little blurry and she needed the glasses to see things clearly. Her eyes shifted to her right corner where the dark fade could be seen. The first sign of her sight leaving her. How long until the opposite side of her eyes would be the same. Soon, it around evolve to tunnel vision, and eventually leading to nothing but a black void all her life.

Helena had accepted this fate, she wanted to do all that she could while she had her eyesight. Watch Dally play the piano every chance she had, soon relying on listening to her beautiful playing. Cooking meals and delicious dishes, until she'll eventually not know which cabinet is the mug or bowl cabinet. Viewing the gorgeous sights of the countryside, it's green hills in the summer and pure white snowy fields in the winter. For all she knew, this could be her seeing London for the final time before the black darkness takes hold of her sight.

* * *

Sherlock dressed into his usual suit that he almost forgot what it was like to wear it. It was as if he lost his second skin. The black trousers with the belt tightly around his slim waist as he tucked his pure white dress shirt into them. He got his hair just as he liked it, puffy and curled with a part on the left. His black dress shoes fitted his feet well with the warm dark soaks after running through the woods barefoot. Sherlock was entirely focused on his appearance as he looked at himself in the mirror. Something that had annoyed his brother.

"I need you to give this matter your full attention, Sherlock, is that quiet clear?" He questioned, trying to get him to understand the threat in London.

"What do you think of this shirt?" His brother questioned, acting as if he heard nothing of Mycroft's explanation.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft spun back from pacing the room, clearly stressed.

"I will find your underground terror cell, Mycroft." He assured, giving him a look for his impatience as he tucked his shirt in. "Just put me back in London."

Sherlock reached for his black blazer. "I need to get to know the place again, breathe it in. Feel every quiver of its beating heart." Never would he think he'd miss London so much that be gone for two years- including the people in it.

Mycroft's assistant seem to understand his stress over Sherlock's aloofness. "One of our men died getting this information." The brother's glanced to her at this information. "All the chatter, all the traffic concurs, there's going to be a terrorist strike on London- A big one."

"And what about John Watson?" Sherlock asked, slipping his blazer on and fixing the lapels.

The assistant glanced to Mycroft who frowned at the question. "John?"

"Have you seen him?" Sherlock gave a short glance, expecting to hear what he's been up to for the past two years.

"Oh yes." Mycroft shifted, his sarcastic tone easing in. "We meet up every Friday for fish and chips with Helena."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, not needing it. Mycroft motioned for his assistant to had a folder of whatever information he had to John- to an extent. "I've kept a weather eye on him, of course. We haven't been in touch at all to…" He shrugged. "Prepare him."

Sherlock looked through the folder, little photos of him was shown including little information. Nothing too drastic, unless you count a recent photo of him growing a mustache. Sherlock frowned at it, he didn't like it.

"No- Well, we'll have to get rid of that."

"We?" Mycroft questioned.

"He looks ancient." Sherlock commented, closing the folder. "I can't be seen to be wandering around with an old man."

Mycroft chuckled with a cheeky grin. "Yet you walked with the Tramp?"

Sherlock dropped the folder onto his brother's desk with a slap. He turned on his heel, fixing his cuffs. "Speaking of, how is my dear Hawk and daughter?"

"If only we knew, she's barely in contact and my informant only gives me updated when he thinks is important." Mycroft told.

Sherlock tilted his head, side glancing his brother. "He wasn't really one for the job, in my opinion." He stepped back in front of the mirror, checking his attire and buttoning his blazer.

"I think I'll surprise them. They'd be delighted." Sherlock thought out loud, mostly concerned to visit them than deal with Mycroft's problem.

Said older Holmes folded his arms, amused by his brother's assumption. "You think so?"

Sherlock nodded, "Hm, pop into Baker Street. Who knows, jump out of a cake!" He told, raising his arms in half excitement.

"Baker Street?" Mycroft frowned at that, how little Sherlock knew. "He isn't there any more, and you know Dally and Helena aren't even in London."

Sherlock gave his brother a look, John not at Baker Street? Sure, he knew Helena and Dally moved to the country, but wasn't that temporary?

"Why would he be? It's been two years." Mycroft reminded him. "He's got on with his life. As did Helena and Dally."

Sherlock's brows knotted at the notion. "What life? I've been away."

Oh, poor Sherlock actually thinking he revolved around them. Did his brother really think life had been put on the pause button since he left? Apparently so, Sherlock was always so stubborn when it came to people.

"Where's he going to be tonight?" Sherlock asked, moving away from the mirror.

"How would I know?" Mycroft asked innocently.

Sherlock raised a brow. "You always know."

Mycroft sighed, dropping his arms to his side. "He has a dinner reservation in the Marylebone Road. Nice little spot." He commented, Sherlock's mind went straight to why he would be going there. "They have a few bottles of the 2000 Saint-Emilion, though I prefer the 2001."

"And Helena?" He asked, tilting his head back.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. "My informant as told me she's on a train to London as we speak. She'll be staying at Two Tower Hotel on St Katherine's Way. She'll be taking the standard double room, arrival is around 3 with a few delays."

"Ah, its like she knows." He mused, shifting his footing. He really wanted to see her, see Dally, see John- everyone. Never would Sherlock think he'd actually miss people, but he did.

"Her visit isn't a happy one, Sherlock." Mycroft informed, but cleared his once when that look was given.

Sherlock felt his doubt start to bit him. But like an annoying gnat, he wiped it away as he brought his hand up to rub his upper lip. "I think maybe I'll just drop by, before visiting John." He told, trying to keep the chip off his shoulder.

The older brother just wished Sherlock would understand. "You know, it is just possible that you won't be welcome."

Sherlock's features scrunched up, as if the notion was impossible. "No, it isn't. Now, where is it?"

"Where is what?" Mycroft question, keeping up this 'playing ignorant' was growing on Sherlock's nerves.

"You know what."

The clicks of heels entered the room, the men turned to find Mycroft's assistant holding his beloved coat. Sherlock's lips quirked as he allowed her to slip the heavy wool coat on him. Looking into the mirror once more, he finally felt like himself again.

"Welcome back, Mr. Holmes."

He exhaled with gratitude. "Thank you." He turned to Mycroft, giving his final word. "Blud." Before taking his leave to return to his beloved city and loved ones- So he thinks.

* * *

The sudden sounds of whistles and bells awoke Helena from her tender sleep. She must have dozed off halfway through the ride, reaching for her glasses on the table. Placing them on the bridge of her nose, she stood seeing Paddington Station out the window.

Excitement and dread all filled her belly, she hoped it was just the sick pill wearing off her. She got her suitcase and made her way off the train. Her eyes took in all of the station as she left, feeling the dense city air of London. The cloud bustling, the cars and cyclist strolling by in the streets with people walking by engrossed in their phones or to where they were heading to. Helena's eyes reached the sky, her dark eyes taking in the cloudy sky and tall buildings with a big smile stretching her lips.

"Helena!" She blinked, looking around hearing someone call her name. "Hey!" She felt a impact to her side, making her stumble and drop her suitcase. Finding her attacker, made her eyes go wide at the sight of Molly hugging her.

"Oh God, Molly!" She let her defense and sense of danger fade turning to properly hug her girl friend.

The excited mousy like girl jumped up and down, holding her hands as she beamed at Helena. It was like two high school girls meeting after a long Summer break. They ignored the passing looks, not letting their glances ruin their reunion.

"I was starting to think you would be arriving tomorrow." Molly told, fixing her knitted coat. The amount of clothing made her look wider- as if pregnant. Helena guessed she might have put on a few pounds is all.

"What time is it?' She checked her wrist watch, shocked by the time. "Near 3 o'clock!?"

"Was the train delayed?" Molly asked, as Helena reached for her suitcase.

"I fell asleep, so I wouldn't know. Maybe." She fixed her hair, though it always seemed to look like she never ran a brush through the reddish hair.

Molly seemed to have taken noticed the short length. She looked her up and down, as if trying to find anything else different to her friend. "You look great, wish I could say the same." she sheepishly joked.

Helena waved her off, turning to walk and talk to call a cab. "You are beaming, Molly! What are you talking about?"

Molly gently shoved her shoulder as a cab drove up. "Still up for a late lunch?" She asked.

Helena opened the door, nodding eagerly. "Sure, just need to drop my suitcase off and we can eat until I faint."

* * *

"Oh wow, look at her!" Molly gushed over watching the videos on Helena's phone of Dally riding her horse, Osiris. "She's grown so much!"

"She's ten now, eleven next Spring." Helena told, going back into the gallery of her phone and showing pictures of her and Dally during her tenth birthday.

The two were at a local cafe in the city, enjoying some pastries. Helena wanted something sweet, so she got herself a cup of tea with a crescent, while Molly ordered coffee with a muffin. The two were now catching up on what has occurred in the past two years. Molly's job was the same, taking apart brains and organs day in and out. She kept in touch with Lestrade and Anderson.

"She'll be entering the dreaded teen years soon." Molly chuckled, Helena nodded with her brows up.

"Don't remind me, I'm still anxious for when she has her period. I bought at least 10 packs of tampons prepared." She laughed, earning a look from a man across the room to discuss such things in public. With the man in her blind spot, she didn't even notice it.

"How's Lestrade doing?" Helena asked, sipping her tea.

"The usual, working hard. Keeps in touch with Anderson, though probably not for long." She chuckled with a grimace look.

Helena rose a brow with curiosity. "Why's that?"

Molly looked up that look she used to give Sherlock when he said something offensive to caught her off guard. "...Oh, well um-"

"Molly, whatever it is. I wouldn't be too shocked." She said, "Is he doing some weirdo job or something?" Helena inquired.

Molly tapped her fingers on the table, regretting to mentioning him. "Well," She started, skimming her tongue along her dry lips. "He's started this club, called 'The Empty Hearse'." Helena face slowly started to contort from amusement to confusion. "He with others, try to theorize how Sherlock-"

"Don't." Helena hissed, raising a palm up and glaring down at the table. "Don't finish that sentence."

Molly had no need to, Helena was smart and knew what Anderson had been up to. His obsession and guilt over Sherlock's death made the man start to come up with ideas and theories on how he faked his death and is still alive.

Molly felt their fun slowly drain as the tense air grew thick in the cafe. She looked around, hearing Helena breath to calm herself down. She shouldn't have said anything, Helena was having fun and laughing until now.

"I'm sorry-"

"No, no." She shook her head, dropping her hand to the table ignoring the contact of her palm smacking the surface sting. "Anderson is a real prick." She grumbled, leaning back and combing her fingers through her hair.

Molly didn't want the death of the man Helena loved haunt her during her visit here. She was here to get herself checked out, visit old friends, then return home to her life. Not be reminded of it or have someone make wild stupid theories on how he faked his death. Molly stared down at the cloth, if only she really did know the truth.

Helena dropped her hands and leaned onto the table. She ate what remained of her crescent and gulped down her tea. "Want to go drinking tonight?"

Molly gave a guilty smile, "Sorry, not tonight. I have a late shift at the hospital." she told.

Helena nodded, shrugging. "Worth a shot." She chuckled.

"Are you going to visit Mrs. Hudson tomorrow?" Molly asked.

"Yeah, I'm unsure of it though." She admitted, "I don't want to pull Mrs. Hudson out of her flat but…"

She sighed and tried to distract herself, looking around the place. Molly noticed how Helena looked around herself, turning her head and back more toward her right side than her left. With her doctor appointment, Molly was concerned how far her sight condition had gotten.

"How are your eyes?" Molly asked, needing to know her friend's condition.

Helena glanced up, giving an airy chuckle. "Losing my right side." She said, pointing a lazy finger to the right side of her face. "Thicker blind spot than my left, good thing I don't drive." She joked, trying to make light of it."

"Are you going to see John?" Molly sipped her coffee before adding. "He's going to be examining you, right?"

Helena felt her day not going well. Molly had the tendency to ask a lot of questions and almost forget how the situation can be awkward or tense. She couldn't help but grin, reminded her of Sherlock.

"I honestly haven't talked to John since we left." Helena rubbed her thumb against the rim of her empty glass. "He hasn't tried to get into contact, he wanted to push us out of his life." She shrugged. "It's what he wanted."

Molly shook her head. "I don't think so, he wanted to keep in touch."

Helena scoffed. "Oh, really?"

Molly nodded, only to earn an eye roll from her friend. Feeling their time ending, Molly checked her watch and stood. "I got to get ready for work." She paid for the meal, as a treat for Helena who stood as well. "Want me to ride with you to the hotel?"

Helena shook her head, wrapping her precious scarf around her pale neck. "I think I'm gonna walk to the hotel. Take in the city."

"You sure?" Molly asked, worried about her wandering London with a blind spot.

"I'll be fine." Helena assured with a grin, the two exiting the building. "I lived on these streets, still have the map of London in here." She told, tapping her temple with confidence.

Molly seems hesitant, but nodded. The two hugged once more, bidding their goodbyes as Molly got a cab rushing to get ready for her shift. Helena heaved a long sigh, turning to take her long strides back to the hotel. She pulled the thin blue scarf over her chin as the cold had increased the growing evening of London.

* * *

That night, was a big night for John Watson. It was the moment he would be purpose to the girl in his life, Mary Morstan. He sat at a table, nervous and fidgety waiting for her to return from the loo. Dinner was great and he was fine until he felt the butterflies in his stomach rising to, as some say, pop the question tonight. He had drank all his red wine to ease his nerves, looking over the wine list. Having some proper wine was right to ask yeah? Yeah, he thought so.

Little did the doctor know he was going to get a surprise that night too. Slowly maneuvering through the restaurant, Sherlock Holmes built up a small little funny disguise to hide himself, but enough to his reveal to be obvious. Just a simple set of glasses, a clip on bow tie, and a smudge of eyeliner to create a funny looking mustache above his lip to finish it off. He also took the liberty to take a menu to blend in with the service staff, not one single person took notice.

He still got it.

"Can I help you with anything, sir?" He asked his mustached friend, giving a higher pitch and false accent that would possibly offend any Frenchman.

"Hi, yeah." John barely looked up, glad to have some service help him. "I'm looking for a bottle of champagne, a good one."

Sherlock hummed, unable to wipe the grin off his face. "Well, these are all excellent vintages, sir."

John sighed, "Oh, it's not really my area," he admitted. "What do you suggest?"

"Well, you cannot possibly go wrong, but if you'd like my personal recommendation." John nodded, still eyeing up the list in his hand.

Sherlock pointed at the bottom of the list, he didn't care what it was but it also didn't matter for his grand reveal. "This last one on the list is a favorite of mine." He stood straight, swinging and shifting his stance in eagerness. "Is it, you might in fact say, like a face from the past."

Sherlock lowered her tone and removed his glasses, expecting his friend to give the simple glance up. Though he just nodded and reached for his remainder of red wine. "Great. I'll have that one please."

Sherlock waited, but John never looked up. "It is familiar," he urged on. "But with the quality of surprise!" He extended his arms out, as if he has just shown a magic trick of making himself reappear.

"Well, surprise me." John told, handing the list to him.

"I'm certainly endeavoring to, sir." Sherlock grumbled and marched off to plan out his second attempt.

Replacing the glasses and ignoring the lenses that was slightly off putting to his perfect 20/20 vision, Sherlock went in search of wines and champagne. Okay, his next attempt. Bring over the champagne he randomly selected, now checking over the wine list to see what it was. Eh, not a bad selection for a random pick, Sherlock thought. He'd bring it over, act like some pestering waiter, then reveal himself once again. Surprise!

Success this time, of course. Once Sherlock had collected the bottle, he maneuvered back to John's table. He wasn't alone in his return, a short blonde haired woman dressed in a purple night outing attired sat across from him. Though, Sherlock completely ignored the woman, he had the tendency to fail with women so she was probably another useless date. Sherlock didn't even deduce and made a beeline straight for John, interrupting his conversation.

"Sir, you'll find this vintage exceptionally to your liking." He told eagerly and showing the big green bottle to him. "It has all the qualities of the old, with the color of the new."

John was a bit stunned that the man had actually rushed back with the champagne, he has forgotten all about it. His main focus was Mary sitting before him- not the bloody alcohol. This was not the time, he was about to get to the point!

"No, sorry, not now please." He told, trying to politely shoo the waiter away. Mary bit her pinky and grinned, finding the nosy waiter amusing as he pushed the drink for John to accept.

"Like a gaze from a crowd of strangers, suddenly one is aware of staring into the face of an old friend." Sherlock had nearly rushed his opening as he removed the glasses once more, in hopes he'd finally look at him.

John shook his head, "No, look, seriously, could you just…" finally his gaze was met with the waiter- Sherlock Holmes.

He near jolts in his seat, fearful he's seeing a ghost or a hallucination bear him. His best friend, flat mate, and detective was standing before him- Alive.

"Interesting thing, a tuxedo. Lends discretion to friends and anonymity to waiters." he told, slightly grinning to ease the mood.

John looked to Mary, she was seeing this too, right? She looked between him and Sherlock proving he wasn't going crazy. With a duck of his head, John stood near stumbling from the table. Sherlock stood rigid, prepared for what John's reaction might be to seeing the dead standing before him. He took even breaths, staring wide eyed at Sherlock still taking him in.

"John, what is it?" Mary asked, concerned for his sudden reaction. "What?"

"Well, the short version, not dead." Sherlock told, assuring him he was indeed alive. Those words, he heard John's wish for him to not be dead when he visited his grave stone. Wish come true!

John's tense gaze grew unnerving for the detective. If he knew John right, his mind was processing, and doing it for too long and too hard. The words of his brother started to return to his mind, not everyone would welcome him back as if he was gone for a few days or weeks. He was dead for two years, after all!

"Bit mean springing it on you like that, I know.' Sherlock muttered, finding it hard to keep with John's gaze slowly turning into a glare. "Could've given you a heart attack- probably still will. But in my defense, it was very funny." He joked, though no crack was made on John's features.

"Okay, it's not a great defense." He added.

Finally Mary caught up, shocked by who was standing before them. "Oh, no, you're-"

"Oh, yes." Sherlock quickly confirmed.

"Oh, my God!"

"Not quite."

"You died, you jumped off a roof." Mary told, as if trying to convince herself he wasn't there.

"No." Sherlock denied.

"You're dead." She shuddered.

"No, I'm quite sure, I checked- Excuse me." He took an unused table napkin and dipped it into her wine glass of water to wipe off his smudging mustache. "Does yours rub off too?" He asked, teasing him about the mustache already.

"Oh, my god!" Mary near cried, the sound of anger rising in her tone. "Do you have any idea what you've done!?"

The sound of his girlfriend rising to the defense and the glare John only gave his enemies started to let Sherlock know by now; this was not going well.

"Okay, John, I'm suddenly realizing I probably owe you some sort of an apology-"

John suddenly slammed his knuckles onto the table. The slam shook the wine glasses, and startled nearby customers with a few gasps. Sherlock felt shocked, John has shown many points of being angry, annoyed, or pissed at Sherlock. This though, he felt his friend was a true ticking time bomb and Sherlock here was just tugging at all the wrong wires the entire time.

Mary instantly raised her hands, wanting to calm her boyfriend down. "Alright, just- John, just keep-"

John sucked in some air sharply, "Two years." He hissed, shaking his head and ducking his view again. John inhaled deeply and exhaled just as sharply, feeling he was between the verge of screaming or crying.

"Two years." He repeated, louder for Sherlock to hear this time. "I thought-" He paused, his voice cracking at the tension of those painful memories and emotions slammed into him as if he was the target in a shooting range.

"I thought… You were dead." He raised his brows, but Sherlock let him continued. "Now, you let me grieve. Left Helena and Dally all alone." The mention of them hurt Sherlock, making him take a breath at that. "How could you do that? How!?"

Sherlock bit his lip, trying to think maybe calming him down was the best approach before explaining anything. Despite a military man, John was a man to let his emotions run him into danger and stupid situations.

"Wait, before you do anything that you might regret, um, one question." Sherlock requested. "Just let me ask one question."

Mary and John waited, looking up for the single question he allowed him to ask.

"Are you really going to keep that?" He asked, unable to hold back a chortle of pointing out his damned stupid mustache. Marry scoffed, finding this scene completely unbelievable.

As anyone would've guessed, John took the instinct to lunge at Sherlock and wrap his hands around his throat with an urge to choke him out. Sherlock was thrown off by this attack, falling backwards against the floor trying to push him off. It took about six men to pull him off Sherlock, who was a tad stunned but also should've been more careful with that one question he was allowed to ask.

* * *

**Thank you Lady Jensen, wag11137, tvxqteentop, ILovepenguins24, LNico123 for the follows and favorites!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I know I cut out some things from the last chapter, but we want to get to Sherlock and Helena, right? So I wrote it as such to get to this part. I only write parts where Helena would matter, anyway. Enjoy!**

* * *

This lead to John and Sherlock being kicked out, Mary trailing behind. They managed to get to a small cafe. Sherlock sat in front of the couple, wanting to explain how it was he escaped the death. He was sure John's 'how' proved he wanted to know how he had done it, Sherlock didn't shy away in explaining it. Despite the glaring look John gave, arms tightly folded with his coat on and scarf hung around his neck with Mary sitting in her own coat, still in shock of the man before her.

"I calculated that there were thirteen possibilities once I'd invited Moriarty onto the roof. I wanted to avoid dying if at all possible, but keep Helena from getting involved. The first scenario involved hurling myself into a parked hospital van filled with washing bags, a stunt Helena had done before. Impossible. The angle was too steep. Secondly, a system of Japanese wrestling-"

"You know, for a genius you can be remarkably thick." John stated, cutting off Sherlock unneeded long explanation.

Sherlock frowned, "What?" he hadn't expected to be interrupted.

"I don't care how you faked it, Sherlock." John informed, arms tightly folded against his chest. Nearly each word was a way of releasing his boiling anger. "I want to know why."

"Why?" Sherlock was a bit dumbfounded at the question. "Because Moriarty had to be stopped."

No response was made, one didn't have to be made. The squinting glared from John's gaze spoke to Sherlock alone. That's what he meant, Sherlock nodded when he realized John's actual question.

"Oh…" He folded his fingers with his elbows resting on the table. "Why, as in…?" John's slow impatient nod confirmed Sherlock's mistake. "I see. Yes. Why. That's a little more difficult to explain."

John shrugged, brows raised in expectation. "I've got all night." He challenged, now that his plans tonight were dashed.

Sherlock cleared his throat, thinking back those two years ago when this whole charade was planned. Actually, um, that was mostly Mycroft's idea."

"Oh, so it was your brother's plan?" John inquired.

"Oh, but he would have needed a confidante." Mary told, Sherlock nodded to her input. But John's look was one that she didn't want to be given. "Sorry." She muttered, feeling her input wouldn't the best right now.

"But he was the only one." John asked, looking back to Sherlock. "The only one who knew."

Sherlock sighed, feeling it would be best to just lie but John would see right through it now. "A couple of others. It was a very elaborate plan, it had to be." He felt it was enough and continued with his explanation. "The next of the thirteen possibilities was-"

"Who else?" John asked, wanting to know exactly who knew he was alive while he didn't. "Who else knew?" Sherlock hesitant grew. "Who!?"

"Molly."

"Molly!?" Out of all he knew he expected Mrs. Hudson or Lestrade, but Molly?

"John…." Mary warned when his voice rose.

"Molly Hooper," Sherlock confirmed, his gaze now down at the table. It was as if he was confessing who broke the vase. "And some of my homeless network and that's all."

John's brows went up, "You mean all those people who Helena helped and lived with? They know- Does she?" Had she faked not knowing that entire time!?

"No, no." Sherlock quickly answered. "She… doesn't know."

"Okay." At least he was completely out of the loop. He nodded to Mary who smiled softly hoping this would come to an end soon. "So just your brother, Molly Hooper, and one hundred tramps."

"Ha, no!" Sherlock scoffed with a grin. "Twenty-five at most."

That respond was like a punch as John reached across the table slamming a punch to Sherlock's face. He stumbled down to the floor as the table fell with glass shattering.

* * *

After being kicked out of t_hat_ cafe, the trio relocated to a kebab shop. Mary still stuck with them, standing by John's side in case he had the urge to violently attack his revived friend once more. Sherlock tended to a fresh cut on his lip from the massive hit John laid on him. Sherlock removed his coat, although who knows how long before they're kicked out of this establishment. He checked the blood on the napkin to see if the bleeding stopped, hissing when he placed it back on the cut. Unlike getting punched before, a simple small cut to the cheek, John was really wanting to leave some damaged to the detective.

John kept breathing in and out to calm down, but couldn't bring himself to match his gaze to his friend this time. The silence was just at the level of bearable, but Sherlock couldn't resist.

"Seriously, it's not a joke?" He asked, removing the napkin to motion to his upper lip. "You're really keeping this?"

Well, it was better than hearing him be snide about who exactly knew his fake death. John cleared his throat, leaning against the display case. "Er, yeah."

Sherlock gave a half nod, he didn't like it. "Sure?"

He finally looked up at Sherlock, he was acting like a child not liking a coat or shirt he was wearing. John felt he worked well on keeping it grown out like he did. "Mary likes it." That's all it mattered, she liked it.

"Hmm no, she doesn't." Sherlock informed, unable to stop staring at the hairy thing.

Oh, back to this again. "She does." John argued, he knew Mary more than Sherlock ever could.

"She doesn't." Sherlock repeated, replacing the napkin to his lip.

John glanced to Mary, expecting back up on his statement. But her face said it all, he knew that face. She rolled her eyes shaking her head, not wanting to get involved in this.

"Oh, don't."

"Oh, brilliant!" John suddenly felt silly with this stupid thing on his face. He had been walking around with this hairy lip all these months and she hated it!

"Look, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She sighed. "I didn't know how to tell you-"

"Right, no, no, this is charming." He sarcastically told. "I've really missed this!" John spat, pointing a finger at his friend.

Sherlock refolded the napkin when he stopped bleeding and pocketed the material. John inhaled and took a step up to Sherlock. "One word, Sherlock, that is all we would have needed!" He hissed at him. "One word to let us know that you were alive! Helena- Oh God!" He hung his head, all this had caused him to cut connections with his friend.

Mary had heard about her many times and wished to have met her and the cute little Dally. John talked about those two many times, but found himself unable to call or talk to them. Mary had encouraged him on New Years to wish them happy holidays, but John bailed out at the last second. Guilt ate at him from the inside out, he had left them all alone and now- This had to happen.

"I've nearly been in contact so many times, but-" John scoffed at Sherlock's attempt of sentiment. "I worried that, you know, you might say something indiscreet."

"What?" John blinked, was he insinuating?

Sherlock shrugged, "You know, let the cat out of the bag." Yes, yes he was.

"So this is my fault!?" John barked.

Mary laughed out in disbelief. "Oh, God!"

"Why am I the only one who thinks that this is wrong!?" He shouted, now gaining everyone's attention in the small shop. "The only one _reacting _like a human being!?"

"_Over_reacting." Sherlock corrected, calm as can be.

"Overreacting!?" John repeated in disbelief.

"John!" Mary scolded, trying to stop him from getting them kicked out again.

John ignored her, "Overreacting! So you fake your own death"

"Shh!"

"and you waltz in here large as bloody life!"

"Shh!" Sherlock kept shushing him, just because he was back didn't mean everyone had to know.

"But I'm not meant to have a problem with it, no! Because Sherlock Holmes thinks its a _perfectly _okay thing to do!"

"Shut up, John! I don't want everyone knowing I;m still alive!" Sherlock barked back at him.

"Oh, so its still a secret, is it!?" John questioned, guessing he must have been the first person he went to in his return.

"Yes, it's still a secret!" He yelled, voice lowering to get John to lower his. He looked around seeing the customers eyeing up the shouting match between them.

John shifted his foot, glaring up at him. "I would guess that your own daughter wouldn't know your here either!?"

"No, of course not!" He barked, Sherlock voice rising once more.

"And Helena?" John inquired.

Sherlock was hesitant, his tone lower and calmer. "No, I plan to see her soon." He admitted, gaze shifting to the floor. "Promise you won't tell anyone?"

"Swear to God!" John shouted, though he was sarcastic to his stupid question. John noticed the looks and leaned back, he felt his head rushing from the yelling. He was pretty sure he had just risen his blood pressure up that night alone.

Sherlock had to get to his point, taking a step to whisper these words. "London is in danger, John. There's an imminent terrorist attack and I need you and Helena's help."

John stared at him, brows high and eyes wide. He gave a certain looked to Mary, as if he had just asked the most ludicrous question in the world. He returned back to Sherlock, "My help?" he asked surprisingly calm.

Sherlock mistook his calmer tone to grin at his friend. "You have missed this, admit it. The thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through your veins, the three of us against the rest of the world-"

**Crack!**

* * *

It was at that moment his made that regrettable choice, as John had given Sherlock a bloody nose with the impact of his head.

Outside in the cold, John had gotten to calling a cab as Mary tended to him like the nurse she was. He leaned his head back, new tissue in his hand as he waited for the bleeding to stop. What had he done wrong this time? Sherlock assured not everyone knew, offered him to help with this dangerous case, and even apologies! Where did he go wrong?

"I-I don't understand." Sherlock muttered, nose stinging as he tried to scramble a reasoning for John's third attack. "I said I'm sorry, isn't that what your supposed to do?" He asked, Mary standing beside him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, though it ached it wasn't broken, and pressed the napkin to his nose in case any more blood escaped.

Mary shook her head, she heard about this Sherlock. But, this isn't what she imagined at all. "Gosh," She sighed. "You don't know anything about human nature, do you?"

Sherlock let his nose go, but kept the tissue in place. "Hmm, nature? No." He told, eyes shifting from John to her. "Human?" Well, he was still learning, but he might be off a few steps. "No."

Mary smiled, "I'll take him round." she assured.

Sherlock frowned, this woman was different. Most of John's past girlfriends despise or hate the relationship he and John held. Calling Sherlock names and dumping John not even after a few weeks to a few months. But this Mary, she was willing to help Sherlock?

He lowered the tissue, feeling the bleeding had finally stopped. "You will?"

"Oh, yeah." She assured with a nod.

Sherlock thought back, he never really deduced her. He gave her a quick look over and a large amount of information came to him. She was an only child, a linguist and part time nurse. She was clever, a bit short-sighted and baked her own bread. A disillusioned cat lover, deep romantic, held an appendix scar and secrete tattoo. She was a size twelve shoe a guardian, but a bit of a liar thrown in.

Out of all he saw in her, nothing gave him the impression she was… bad for John. She was a normal London nurse with John Watson as her boyfriend. She held the grin, as if she knew he was deducing her, but actually didn't mind it. It reminded him of when he deduced Helena the first time, she was… fine with it. Sherlock can imagine these two being good friends, for sure.

"Mary!" John called, he had hailed a cab ready to take them home.

Mary gave one last smile before trotting over to join him in the cab. Sherlock stood by, watching the two take their leave to wherever they lived together.

It wasn't a night he had expected, just as his brother had said. John's life had changed, he was out of Baker Street, with a woman he loved, and a job he considered normal. He was… normal.

Sherlock turned toward the road to his left, ready to visit another dear someone. But the doubt filled his skull more and more as he thought of tonight. How would Helena react? Would she attack him just as John did? Possibly get a proper broken nose from her. Would she get ignore the fact he even came back and refuse to accept him? She would have every right to do so. Leaving her to take care of Dally-

And Dally, poor Dally. Being orphaned once, then later lose her father and almost orphaned again. He was thankful Mycroft pulled some strings with his position to have Helena officially adopt her. But with him back, Dally might be ecstatic to have him return. He thought back those years ago, when he last saw her in the Moore.

Yes, that was him. No illusions or tricks, he just had to see her one last time before he left. She was so broken and lost, he had hoped he pointed her to the right direction.

Doubt- this bloody doubt was something Sherlock only held to his investigations. With a pull of the collar and huff past his lips, he walked down the road knowing where he should go.

* * *

Hotel bathrooms never seem to ease well with at home at bathrooms. The shower head was always too low, the knobs made no sense of what was hot or cold, and the hotel soaps felt a sticky feeling on the skin. Helena dried off and wrapped herself in the silk blue robe as she dried her hair with her towel. At least the towels were nice and fluffy, so that was a plus one.

Her hair felt cold against her scalp as she stood in front of the mirror. Her sight was a tad off as she let the towel rest around her shoulders. Helena leaned onto the granite black and white counter, looking into her reflection. She raised her finger to gently tug at her eye lid in her right eye, seeing the dark tiny blotch that stained her eye. That's what caused her to lose her right peripheral. She let her lid go and stared back into her dark chocolate eyes. Soon, it would cover her entire sight, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Helena reached into her small bag she left in the bathroom and took out her eye drops. She dropped them into her eyes, closing them to let the drops settle. It wouldn't do much, but the treatment helped with the pain. The hot steam and shower made her eyes feel dry, if the bloody knobs worked well. The drops helped clear the cloud cover her eyes held for a while. The glasses eased her sight in the light giving UV protection and fixed any blurry sight she held.

A knock on the door made her turn her head, blinking her eyes. "Room service!" Called a deep voice. Helena frowned, she hadn't called room service.

"Sorry, I never called any." She called from the bathroom, looking back to check her eyes.

"Complimentary!" The man cheered, as if he was eager to bestow whatever it was he had. "From a Mr. Holmes."

Helena sighed with a roll of her eyes, must have been Mycroft. "Fine, just bring it in." She told, hearing the door open and a cart being wheeled into the room.

"I think you'll find this dish to be to you liking, Miss." He told, Helena frowned at the tone of his voice. He sounded really eager, maybe he just wanted a good tip.

"Okay." Helena muttered, ignoring him as she reached for her glasses.

Her eyes shot down at the counter not seeing them. With a sigh, she remembered to have left them on the bed side table. She tightened the robe around her slender body, if this man even tried anything she'd be ready.

Helena opened the bathroom door and stepped out, walking over to hopefully see the man prepare to leave. She noted the room was more dimly lit than she remembered, but blamed it on her sight. She walked around the large bed and picked up her glasses sliding them on. With a sigh, she turned to see the cart sitting by the desk and saw the plate of a delicious steak and some fruit with two wine glasses. Helena frowned, what was Mycroft thinking?

"Is it to your liking?" The man asked, making her jump as he stood by the window.

His tall slender form was seen from the lights of London Bridge bright outside her bay window. But because of the dark lighting, she couldn't see his whole figure or face, if he was facing the right way.

"Er, sure. Um, can you-"

"I saw it was a nice choice at a restaurant I was just visiting. Thought we'd have a taste, if you'd like." He offered, his tone had changed and it brought chills to her spine.

"...Who are you?" She questioned, frowning at the stranger.

The man reached for the lamp and switched it on, slowly turning to reveal himself. That curly dark bouncy hair, those lighting blue eyes, high sharp cheekbones and that low deep voice he held. Sherlock Holmes stood before her, coat off but he was in his usual dark blazer and matching slacks with the tightly fitted white dress shirt. No blood covering his head and face, his eyes were bright and filled with life, pupils were dilated once they set his sight onto her. His lips quirked upward as she cautiously took his approach to her, each step hitting the carpet to assure he was a solid mass there.

"Blue looks good on you." He commented, looking her figure up and down in his old dressing gown.

Helena just stared at him, her eyes looking deep into his, shifting now and then to take in his features. Sherlock felt the same as when John just stood in silence, he inhaled expecting a punch or slap of some sort for her, knowing she would release more anger than John had tonight.

He exhaled, looking down at his shoes seeing her bare pale feet. "I know, it's unexpected to pop back in like this."

His eyes raised back, his brows lowered finding the black spot in her right eye. Panic had surged through his veins as he held a fear that her sight was so bad, she couldn't see him.

"Helena, are you-"

Suddenly, Helena jumped at him, smashing her lips right onto his, eyes closed to press her body against his. Sherlock had expected a list of assaults, but a kiss was the last he would ever expect. He felt his shoulder sink and his hands reach up to cup her cheeks gently as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck, feeling the back of his hair as she knotted her fingers through the dark fringes. The other hand roamed his back, assuring herself the solid form was really here and she wasn't imagining him. The soft lips against hers was enough to bring tears to her eyes, streaming down as the kiss grew wet from tears staining her face.

Sherlock didn't want the moment to end, but soon she pulled back to release a soft sob, making him wrap his arms around her and hold her close. She pressed her face into his chest, his long thin fingers combed through her semi wet hair. It soothed her so much but caused her to cry harder.

"I thought- You- I saw you- And I-" She hiccuped, unable to form a proper sentence between her crying. "Oh, God! I-I-"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He whispered into her hair.

They soon moved to sit on the bed, she leaned into his side, wiping her eyes. Helena eventually pulled back to get the tissues off the bedside table, being careful when wiping her eyes as she removed her glasses. He was dead- _Dead_. She saw him fall, she saw his cold dead body on the cement. How- How did he!?

"You fell, I _saw_ you." She sniffled, trying to stop the tears as he continued to comb her hair. She was sure she had cried her eye medicine out and would have to apply another dose. "You were dead, and covered in-in-in _blood_!"

Sherlock nodded, sighing as he was going through this once again like John. At least with Lestrade he just called him a bastard and hugged him. That's all it took. It was a good thing she didn't scream bloody murder like Mrs. Hudson did.

"I had to do it, Moriarty had to be stopped." He looked down, his hand skimming her back feeling the silk material over her bare back.

"...I-I thought I was the one who-"

"No, Helena, no." He stood before her, hands on his shoulders as she looked up at him. "None of this is your fault."

"But Sherlock, if I hadn't been up there with Trevor none of it would've happened." She stood, taking a few steps as she tried to relay her guilt she held for two years. "I chased after that psycho and Trevor kidnapped me. He was working for him the whole time, the whole thing was a trap!"

"Helena, listen to me." He turned her around, leaning down to her level. "Listen, all of it was planned ahead."

She searched his eyes as he nodded to confirm his words. "...W-What?" Her brows knotted as she heaved a breath. "P-Planned?"

Sherlock nodded, rubbing his hands against her arms to keep her as calm as she was now. "Mycroft had planned out worst case scenario to fake my death. It was the only way to stop Moriarty."

Helena stepped back from his grip, she shook her head and raised a hand to understand this information. "...Mycroft knew you were alive?"

"It was all his idea." He told.

"That bastard!" Helena barked, gripping her drying hair and groaning in anger. "He knew! That fu-" She bit her knuckle hard, noting to give him a piece of her mind next time she saw him. "Anyone else know?"

Now Sherlock hesitated, would she hit Molly if she found out. Not to mention people of his homeless network. The hesitation made Helena a raise at him, "Sherlock, who else knew?"

"You know, I don't that's too important right now." He tried to change the subject, motioning towards the tray. "Your meal is getting cold, by the way."

Helena shook her head. "...Did John know?"

Sherlock slowly turned back to her, he placed the plate back down and approached her. "No, he didn't know."

She looked back up to him, he raised a hand to her cheek gently rubbing the tear stains. The touch made her eyes glassy to release more. "Does he know your alive?"

"He was the first I met tonight." He told honestly.

Helena finally quirked a grin, Sherlock questioned it until she reached up to touch the cut on his lip. "I see he express his feelings on your return."

Sherlock resisted to wince, it still hurt to touch the healing injury. "Along with a near broken nose."

"Did you sneak into his flat? He seems to want to put you back in your grave." She joked, letting tears escape the corner of her eyes.

"I seemed to have interrupted his dinner date." He explained.

Sherlock reached over to the bed getting more tissues to wipe her eyes. Soon she would find them puffy and stinging from all her crying. At first she was going to accept them, but Sherlock wiped them as delicate as possible. She didn't ask about the date or anything more about John. She really could care less about the sod.

Her hand reached him, holding his as she looked downward. "I just expect to wake up, and find this all a dream."

Sherlock took her hand with his free one, squeezing it to assure he was real. He tucking his knuckle under her chin so he could look right into her eyes. She knew he was focusing on the right one, almost ashamed she tried to look away. Sherlock kept her chin in place, his eyes held guilt as he scanned over her. She knew he knew it, seeing the black in her eye was answer enough.

"You know," She chuckled to bit back a sob wanting to escape her throat. "I'll have to re-apply my medicine, I pretty much cried it out."

Sherlock's lips didn't crack, he leaned down and kissed her cheek, lashes closed over her eyes to take in the contact he was gifting her. Never had Sherlock been tender to her, and two years she yearned for it to never end. He held her close once more, releasing a sigh into her hair.

"How long are you visiting for?" He asked, his voice in a soft low whisper as if fearful for anyone to hear.

"A few days." She said, resting her cheek against his shoulder, Her arms hugging his waist, her hands roaming his back feeling the smooth blazer he wore. "I have a check up after tomorrow."

"Mycroft informed me," He told, taking in the scent of the shampoo she used. Still using the fruity ones, as always. Didn't seem everything had changed. "And Dally?"

"She wanted to stay back. Oh, Sherlock." She pulled back smiling up at him, one he missed for so long. "Dally is growing up so much! And… She reminds me of you in so many ways."

Sherlock grinned, "She is a Holmes." he told her.

Helena smiled, stepping away. "I'll get dressed, so um…" Helena quickly picked up her glasses, and idled by the door. She had a look of hesitance, if she were to go through that door he would disappear.

Sherlock understood her fear, and approached her looking down at her small frame. "I'm not going anywhere."

He leaned in, giving her a kiss as just deep as she gave him before. Helena felt the air leave her, tilting her head as they pressed their lips together. They opened their mouths just a tad, her hand reached up for his shoulder as she rested a hand on her waist. Slowly parting, Helena felt her lungs needed air as she left into the bathroom. She leaned on the door, pressing her hand to her chest as her heart pounded hard against her ribs. Sher chest was ready to explode, mind dizzy not wanting this to ever end.

Even if this was a dream, it was worth having.

* * *

After Helena got dressed, back into her day clothes of her dark green jumper and blue jeans, she fixed her hair now dry. Sherlock looking her over, now noticing how short her hair was compared to the long length it used to her. Her glasses placed back on, a bag in her hand that held her eye drops were kept. Helena's smile returned seeing him still here, he returned it as she placed the bag on her bedside.

"Where are you staying?" She asked, keeping her eyes on the man she loved.

Helena sat on the bed as he stood by, hands in his trouser pockets. "Back at the old flat."

Her brows shot up, moving to sit with her legs crossed. "Mrs. Hudson knows your here?" He nodded, she rocked back and forth. "Anyone else?"

"Molly and Lestrade." He told.

Helena raised a brow, "Oh, so they come before me?" she teased.

Sherlock looked down, knowing she was joking. "After John's reaction, I-" He cleared his throat. "I didn't know how you would take to…" He gestured to himself.

"Thought I was gonna lay a hit on you?" She asked.

"A cut to the lip and a near broken nose isn't the worst I've had." He shrugged, looking to Helena seeing her surprised by that information. "But I've seen what you could do."

Helena chuckled. "I thought I saw some blood stains on your upper lip." She told, pointing at him.

Sherlock frowned and raised his hand for the feel of any dry blood. He was sure he cleaned all the blood from his nose before getting here. Helena raised an amused brow, was Sherlock worried how he looked for her? That was adorable!

"Would, er," He cleared his throat, something he did when his brain was scrambling for a proper sentence. "Would you come to the flat with me?" He waved his hand around the room. "Better than this hotel room, that's for sure. Only if, um, if you want to. I mean-"

Helena stood from the bed, grinning up at him. "You don't even need to ask, Sherlock. Because you aren't leaving my sight for a moment."

Sherlock grinned and held her hand. "I was hoping you'd say that."

* * *

The following morning was a tizzy for people. With the recent release of Sherlock Holmes alive London was all over Twitter with tags such as #SherlockLives and #SherlockIsNotDead. It exploded into the morning that the news on the telly went insane.

Helena stood by the TV, her late morning tea in her hand and her hair a mess. She wore the blue gown over her sleep wear of shirt and sweatpants as she drank her tea. The flat felt like home. Returning last night was a blur with how late the two returned. She slept in his bed, and woke up to find him sitting there with her. It was as if he wanted to assure her he was really there, and all that happened last night really happened.

Sherlock never told the full plan of his fake death nor told how he had done it. Helena didn't care about any of that. He was there, alive and standing before her. She turned after muting the telly seeing him get to work on a case Mycroft gave him for his return. Helena remembered hearing that short explanation, though she felt useless to help him. She no longer jumped roofs or ran through the streets and with her sight, felt she couldn't trust herself to do so. What use could she be of him with the terrorist attack on London? He had many pictures of people and the map of London. With a black marker he X'd out some photos and connected lines to others which were soon X'd out as well.

The butterflies in her stomach fluttered as she turned the telly off and watch him work. It was soothing to see this again, she wasn't rushing around to make breakfast or working to wait tables and clean dishes. She just felt relaxed for once, and reveled in it while she could. Sherlock still had the power to ease her into a comfort level.

Helena approached when he paused, eyes shifting about on the wall above the couch. "Nothing yet?" She asked, sipping her cup of tea gently.

"So far." He mumbled, caping the black marker in his hand.

She hummed and rested her head on his shoulder as she looked over the wall. "What's the time limit to finding the terrorists?"

Sherlock sighed, "When the attack is launched." he informed. Helena scoffed, lifting her head. "Mycroft will be coming no doubt to rush my work."

Helena's eyes beamed, "Please tell me I get a word in edgewise?" she asked.

"If you mean to 'deck' him, by all means." He encouraged.

She huffed, smiling at him. "I'm going to take a shower."

"You had one last night." Sherlock told, brows low.

"Yes, and the water was dreadful and the shower head was tiny. I want a _proper_ shower." She walked into the kitchen, finishing her tea and washing the cup out. "Don't tell Mycroft I'm here!" Helena called down the hall.

"Won't need to." He called back.

Helena took a long shower, reveling in the nice warm water and the shower head high above her head getting her hair and body soaked properly. Since she had already washed her hair, she didn't worry on washing it a second time today. All Helena wanted was a good soak.

She turned the water off and stepped out, drying herself on the towels. She dressed into some day wear since Mycroft would be visiting. Helena clipped her bra on and slipped on her underwear. She put on a white tight long sleeve with a black tank top over top and jeans. She slipped on her socks and sneakers, taking her brush off the night stand of the bedroom and putting her glasses on she placed next to it. She looked around the room, placing the brush down deciding to make up the med. She tucked the sheets and fluffed the pillows. One wouldn't even think someone slept here.

She picked the brush up again, looking to the mirror on his closet to fix her hair properly. Satisfied, she put the brush back down and left the bed room to hear Mycroft and Sherlock talking.

"I've given the Prime Minister my personal assurance you're on the case." Mycroft told, Helena guessed it was about that terrorist attack they were talking about. No doubt trying to put the pressure onto Sherlock about it.

"I am on the case, we both are, look at us right now." Sherlock replied quickly.

Helena walked through the kitchen and glanced through to see the men sitting across from each other. A sudden buzzer noise made her jump. "Oh, bugger!"

What the hell exactly where these two doing? "Whoopsy!" Sherlock looked up, smiling at Helena entering the room. "Can't handle a broken heart. How _very_ telling." He teased his brother.

Helena wanted to just laugh, finding the two grown men playing the board game, Operation. "Don't be smart." He retorted, placing the tiny red plastic heart back into the little hole.

Sherlock leaned back in his chair, crossing his leg over the knee. "That takes me back. 'Don't be smart, Sherlock. _I'm_ the smart one.'" He pitched his voice imitating a younger arrogant Mycroft.

"I _am_ the smart one." He reminded, sending him a look.

"I used to think I was an idiot." Sherlock told, thinking back to those old days of his childhood.

"Both of us thought you were an idiot, Sherlock." The grin returned to Mycroft's features, as he relaxed back into his seat. "We had nothing else to go on, until we met other children."

"Oh, yeah. That was a mistake." Sherlock mumbled.

"Ghastly." Mycroft agreed. "What were they thinking of?"

Helena leaned onto the doorway, raising a brow at the expense of learning Sherlock's childhood. "Probably something about trying to make friends." Sherlock guessed.

"Oh, yes. _Friends._" Mycroft took the hook on where Sherlock was going with this subject change. "Of course, you go in for that sort of thing now. Going as far as _girl_friend."

"Aww, how sweet." The two men looked over as a grinning Helena entered the room. "Mycroft, how great to see my boyfriend and his brother having a rousing chat over Operation." Sherlock bit back a grin, looking down as she held a sarcastic tone to her greeting.

"Dally would be giddy to hear she'll have a board game session with her loving Uncle Mycroft." He tilted her head toward him. "Unless, of course, her father would like to reveal himself to her as well sometime soon?"

Mycroft faltered, glancing to Sherlock then back up to Helena who held an expectant look. "Good to see you, Helena. How was your train ride?"

She shrugged, folding her arms. "It was fine. But, there I was thinking I wouldn't be needing to visit dear Mycroft Holmes." She extended her arm out at him. "Yet, here you are" she pointed at herself then. "and here I am." She nodded to Sherlock. "And here is your brother, alive and breathing."

The dark look in her eyes said it all. Mycroft sighed, tilting his head at her. "All of this would've been in due time, my dear." He assured.

"Would that have been from his mouth," She pointed to Sherlock. "Or the jackass' mouth?" She asked, motioning toward him to be said jackass.

Mycroft hummed as he chuckled. "Nice to know you haven't changed a bit. Though the hair is-"

"I like it." Sherlock interrupted, knowing Mycroft was just finding something else to irritate the already agitated woman.

"Of course you would." He retorted, taking a short glance toward Sherlock's bedroom. "Lovely night with my brother?"

Helena smirked, she sighed and shook her head. "Mycroft, you kept Sherlock safe and alive. And you helped me with Dally, so I guess I can't be too mad at you." Helena admitted, "Though expect a nice present this Christmas." she warned.

Mycroft watched her move back into the kitchen, probably cooking something when he heard the fridge door open and close. He looked back to his brother, just to see him break his gaze from Helena to return to Mycroft.

"You seem to be enjoying your time with her." He inquired.

"You don't? Ever?" He questioned, referring to their conversation before Helena came up to them.

"If you seem slow to me, Sherlock, can you imagine what real people are like?" He asked, since he already had to deal with working with 'real' people on a daily basis. "I'm living in a world of goldfish."

Sherlock took that into consideration, pressing the digits of his fingers together. "Yes, but I've been away for two years."

"So?" Mycroft inquired.

He looked away finding doubt to his brother. "I don't know. I thought perhaps you might have found yourself a _goldfish_."

Helena peeked in as she got a pan, checking how clean it was. Mycroft had this offended look, one rare to see. Sherlock wished Helena could see it. "Change the subject, _now_." He stood, pacing in front of the mantel.

Helena chuckled, finding what she needed to make lunch. Mrs. Hudson had brought some food up last night according to Sherlock, she wanted to do some shopping so he would have proper meals.

"Rest assured, Mycroft. Whatever this underground network of yours is up to, the secret will reside in something seemingly insignificant or bizarre." Sherlock told, trying to lengths any many of his words as possible.

"Ohh-ohh!" Came the greeting that was Mrs. Hudson, bringing tea up to the men. Helena waited for her water to boil as she stood by the kitchen.

"Speaking of which." Mycroft muttered under his breath, Sherlock grinned.

"I can't believe it." She beamed, placing the tray down to smile at Sherlock. "I just can't believe it! Him, sitting in his chair again."

Helena smiled when Sherlock beamed, as if he was a child back from boarding school. Her eyes wandered to her by the kitchen.

"And Helena, oh, sweetheart!" She walked over hugging Helena for the fifth time that day. "Oh, isn't it wonderful, Mr. Holmes?" Mrs. Hudson asked Mycroft.

"I can barely contain myself!" He replied, that sarcastic tone strong as ever toward the landlady.

"Oh, he really can, you know." Sherlock commented, resting his chin on his knuckles.

That didn't keep Mrs. Hudson's mood down, she still smiled brightly at the brothers. "He's secretly pleased to see you, underneath all that."

Sherlock grinned as she hugged Helena one last time before walking toward the door. "Sorry, which of us?" Mycroft inquired.

"Both of you." She replied, knowing how to work around Mycroft's snide attitude.

Mrs. Hudson joined Helena in the kitchen to get the tea set. While waiting she got to rinsing out the dishes in the sink. "Oh, sorry. I meant to get to those." Helena told.

"Nonsense, deary." She patted her arm. "You had arrived late last night, you should relax with Sherlock back and all."

Helena scoffed, "Honestly my mind is running around a million miles an hour." she told. "I have the urge to just-"

"Dote on him?" Mrs. Hudson asked, raising a brow. Helena looked to her, turning the stove heat down as the pan grew hot. "There's nothing wrong with it." She assured.

"I mean," Helena shrugged as she got her bread slices and spread the butter on each side. "I think taking care of Dally gave me this motherly duty. But, that's obviously different for Sherlock."

Mrs. Hudson patted her back gently, "Some would call this a honeymoon phase." she told.

Helena as caught off guard by the term, almost cutting her hand with the knife to slice her cheese into smaller bits. "S-Sorry, a what?"

"Oh, you know. That dreamy feeling, always leaning on each other and feeling complete bliss with one another?" Mrs. Hudson explained, sighing at the memory of her younger days as such.

It sort of made sense, the two were just admitting their feelings before the incident. They did little touching each other;s hands, and small kisses to their heads. First sight of Sherlock after two years, she lost count how many times they kissed each other. Her heart raced at the thought of how the two were sort of acting like a newly married couple this morning.

"How long does that feeling last?" Helena asked, pressing the cheese between her bread slices to make a sandwich. If she had more, Helena would add some seasoning or peppers and tomatoes.

"Well, some say it can never end. Last for years depending on the couple." Mrs. Hudson tilted her head, a grimace look on her wrinkled features. "I've seen it only last a few days to others."

She noticed the distressed look on Helena, she shook her head at the worried young woman. "But, you and Sherlock always get along in the end. Just got to keep open with one another."

Helena nodded, smiling as she turned her head to see her in her right side. "Thanks, Mrs. Hudson."

Mrs. Hudson's tea was ready, she got the tea pot and walked in, commenting on something the brothers were talking about. She returned and started drying the dishes she cleaned in the sink. She took notice to Helena's cooking, never seeing her cook before since she brought back take out for the boys. Helena was careful frying the sandwich so the cheese would melt but not too much. Mrs. Hudson heard Helena counting before she took the spatula and flip the sandwich to reveal the golden brown on the top side.

"May, quite the chef we have here." She praised, making Helena blush. "I cook a lot for Dally, gotten myself into cookbooks and trying new dishes out every other day."

"Sherlock could use a good home cooked meal than those take outs he always eats." She noted, Helena chuckled in agreement. She'd be glad to cook home meals for Sherlock.

Helena decided the other side was cook enough, she took a plate and served the hot cheese toasties and turned the burner off. "I'll clean the pan later." She told, slicing the sandwich diagonal. Helena knew the landlady would take care of it anyway.

She entered the room finding the brothers discussing over a weird hat in Sherlock's grip. Helena walked over to sit on the couch and watched from her seat, waiting for her sandwich to cool. It was like lunch and a show for her now.

"Maybe he just doesn't mind being different." Mycroft told his brother, referring to the owner of the hat.

While Helena slept in that morning, Sherlock got a client and he left it behind. She questioned it before, but when he answered 'client' that was all she had to hear to understand.

"He doesn't necessarily have to be isolated." Mycroft told.

Sherlock shrugged, "Exactly." He agreed.

Judging by Mycroft's silent, he was thrown off my his brother's reply. "I'm sorry?"

Sherlock glanced up from fiddling with the possibly gross hat. Helena was homeless for most of her life, but sure as hell didn't want to touch that hat. "He's different, so what? What would he mind? You're quite right."

Sherlock lifted the hat to let it just sit atop his bushy curled hair. He indeed looked a bit ridiculous with it on, Helena admitted. "Why would anyone mind?"

This was clearly a jab right at his brother. Here Sherlock was with friends and even a girlfriend. Yet there his older brother was, not a single friend, partner, or an acquaintance like the younger Holmes. Though Mycroft found this accusation appalling.

"I am not lonely, Sherlock." He denied.

Sherlock gave a doubting look, one his brother was surprised to find toward him. Sherlock barely ever talked about personal lives or social standards. Here he was, nosy in Mycroft's life. Helena watching intently, placing her plate onto the coffee table as if ready for the lion to jump at the gazelle.

The little brother leaned in, whispering, "How would you know?" at Mycroft.

He moved around his brother removing the hat, who gave the same dumbfounded look towards Helena. Though she grinned enjoying to see Mycroft squirm a little. It was a rare sight and, damnit, she would revel in it while her eyes still worked.

"Yes." Mycroft sighed, Mrs. Hudson peeked into the room as she wiped a glass cup clean. "Back to work, if you don't mind." He nodded to his brother and Helena. "Good morning."

He bid them farewell and left for the door, taking his leave. Sherlock sent a wink to Mrs. Hudson who giggled happily. She was glad it didn't end in a horrible argument as it always did.

Sherlock sighed, approaching Helena as she checked the temperature of her sandwich." Right, back to work."

He took a slice and bit into it. Helena squealed out at him, as he placed it back on the plate. He hummed how good it was, earning a joking glare from the woman before focusing on his work on the wall above her head.

* * *

**LNico123- Oh you are the sweetest thing ever! I'm honored to have a new fan into the amazing show Sherlock is. I'm really proud of my five year work here and excited to see you love it being worth the hard work over it. I always thank my fans, even if it's the smallest follow/favorite to an amazing review! And thank you for being the first to review book two of my Sherlock series! I'll be working hard to get a so many chapters up for those who waited for this second part for so long so keep an eye out for updates!**


	4. Chapter 4

**This grew harder to write, since Molly still has feelings for Sherlock in the show. But because in our little world in this story, she's supportive towards Helena dating Sherlock, had to change a lot of things. I usually don't favor changing many lines of dialogue, but I broke my own personal rule for it to work. Enjoy!**

* * *

After finishing her lunch, she watched Sherlock continue his work in content silence. He would pin another photos, check his phone and then cross the photo out. It seemed to be a repeated process, which was not good. Each photo crossed out got him father away from the terrorists. Rarely did Sherlock struggle, but then again she usually never see him take Mycroft's cases seriously. This was a serious threat to London though, so it made sense Sherlock was devoting so much of his morning toward this.

"Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson called, appearing at the door with a concerned look.

"Hm?"

"Talk to John." She advised.

Helena scowled at the mention of his name, sitting in the chair across from Sherlock's. Her legs hung over the armchair as her back was pressed against its twin

"I tried talking to him." He told, pocketing the mobile phone he used for his homeless network. "He made his position quite clear."

"What did he say?" She asked.

Sherlock glanced toward her, "Fuck off." he answered

"Ooh, dear!" She left to his work, stunned the sweet man would say such a thing.

Helena scuffed, leaning her head back. "Whatever." She stood from the chair, her blue robe flowing before her as she stood by Sherlock in his red one. "He wants to move on, let him. You've done fine without John before, you can do fine without him now."

Sherlock gave a glance to Helena, feeling disdain in her words as she shown before when John was mentioned. She heard the buzz of her phone, gasping at the caller I.D. "Shit, be right back."

She answered the phone, rushing off into Sherlock's room. "Hey, sweetie!" She greeting before shutting the door.

Dally, how could he forget. Once done with this whole London threat Sherlock would have to pay a visit and show her he was alive and well. They'd move back to London and live happily in the flat together. Solving crimes, catching killers, a real thing to teach Dally. He remembered her being so eager with his stories of past cases and had expressed wanting to help him with one. That day might not be too far off.

But for now, he needed help with cases that were to surely pile up with his return. H needed an assistant, and while Helena would be perfect, she wasn't John Watson. She was Helena and helped in her own way. No, she needed a new John. Someone who knew dead bodies, someone to explain his deductions, help with solving cases.

At that moment, Sherlock knew exactly who to contact for help.

Sherlock sent a text to Molly for her to arrive promptly when she can. If he was correct she was having a day off and even if not, would be free enough to help with what he needed. Hoping the conversation Helena held was long enough, within the next hour Molly arrived.

"You wanted to see me?" She greeted, that cute mousy smile she held toward people.

Sherlock turned from the window, greeting her in return. "Yes. Molly?"

"Yes?"

He took a step closer, thinking how to ask this as nicely as possible. As least condescending as he could be. After all, she said she would help with anything, and after the fall, this was a small gesture to ask.

"Would you like to solve crimes?"

"Have lunch?"

The two narrowed their eyes, minds not on the same subject as the other thought. Molly squinted her eyes, looking around the room not finding John anywhere. "...Solve crimes?"

Sherlock nodded, hands resting in his trouser pockets. "I'm in need of an assistant." He stepped forward, glancing to the bed room. "Helena needs someone as well."

Molly blinked back in surprise. "She's here?"

He nodded. "Her eyes are getting worse, I want to make sure she'll be alright helping me solve some cases."

"Why doesn't she stay here?" Molly asked, though found it to be stupid now thinking it over.

Sherlock sighed, not annoyed though. "She won't be leaving my side for a good while."

"So then she knows-"

"Yup!" He told, popping the end of the word. "She'll be joining us, of course."

"Of course." Molly nodded, not expecting anything less. "How did she take it?"

Sherlock bit back a smirk, "Better than hoped." he told.

Molly let her grin show, "That good?" she joked.

Sherlock frowned, but the bedroom door opened before he could question her notion. Helena came out, pocketing the phone into her back pocket. "Sorry about- Molly!"

She turned earning a hug from her friend. "Hey, Helena."

"What are you doing here?" Helena asked, glancing to Sherlock.

Molly glanced to Sherlock, how gave a pointed look. "She'll be joining us in solving crimes today."

Helena's brows shot up, looking between the two. "Really?" Her eyes fell on Molly. "You sure you want to?"

Molly shrugged, "Yeah, why not?" she asked.

"No, no. I just-" She glanced to Sherlock who looked with those innocent puppy eyes. "It sounds great!" She said with truthful excitement. "Just be prepared for the weird cases that can come rolling in."

* * *

"-Monkey glands, but enough about Professor Presbury." Sherlock dismissed, as they started the afternoon with their first case.

Molly sat in a dining room chair beside Sherlock's chair as Helena stood by the window. The clients were a wealthy couple, the wife sitting across from then and the husband standing beside her. Molly was biting back a smile, excited to be experiencing the Sherlock Holmes cases she always read about- be it odd or extensive. She really didn't care.

"Tell us more about _your_ case, Mr. Harcourt." He walked past back over to them.

"You sure about this?" She whispered to him as he passed.

"Absolutely." He told with confidence.

"Should I be making notes?" Molly asked, wanting to do the right thing as an assistant.

"If it makes you feel better." He unbuttoned his blazer and sank into his seat.

"That's what John says he does. So if I'm being John-"

"You're not being John," Sherlock assured. "You're being yourself."

Helena and Molly hadn't expect that to be said, but Sherlock of all people. Molly glanced over her shoulder at Helena who gave an encouraging nod.

"Well," Mr. Harcourt started, his rich snazzy suit and slick back hair annoyed Helena. It screamed, 'I have money, piss off' to her. "Absolutely no one should have been able to empty that bank account other than myself and Helen."

Sherlock did a quick short deduction, quickly standing back up to the man in disgust. "Why didn't you assume it was your wife?" He asked.

"Because I've always had total faith in her." That answer just sealed the deal for Sherlock.

"No, it's because _you_ emptied it. Weight loss, hair dye, botox affair." He pointed right at his stomach, hair line, and brows as he named each eveidence out. He whipped a card out toward Mrs. Harcourt claiming, "Lawyer. Next!"

The couple left with the wife looking over the card in distraught. Yelling could be heard down the stairs as they made their leave. "That must be record time." Molly said.

Helena chuckled, "He's done them much faster." she informed. Though the lawyer card prepared at her ponder. Usually domestic cases he never took, why take that one?

* * *

The following case a young woman and her stepfather entered, she was upset about a pen pal she had emailed for a year. Molly had started to write down her notes on the dining table, Helena stood by as Sherlock had sat with the daughter. He held her hands with his soft voice asking her about her case.

"And your pen pal's emails just stopped, did they?" He asked, the woman nodded, her face contorted with emotional pain. "And you really thought he was the one, didn't you? The love of your life?"

Sherlock stole a glance toward the girls, he stood and walked over to them. "Stepfather posing as online boyfriend." He whispered to them.

The girls were shocked, "What?" they both whispered back.

"Breaks it off, breaks her heart. She swears off relationships, stays at home. He still has her wage coming in."

Sherlock spun at the stepfather, his tone and attitude taking a complete 180. "Mr. Windibank, you have been a complete and utter-" Sherlock's phone went off, he sighed and looked at the collar I. D. seeing it was Lestrade. "Helena?"

She nodded and walked over to the client's father as Sherlock answered the phone. "Mr. Windibank, you should be ashamed of yourself!" She barked at him, catching him off guard.

Molly's head turned left and right, Sherlock walking over to the mantel to take his call as Helena was left to close the case and escort them out. "How dare you pose as your daughter's pen pal just so you can keep her at home!"

Molly was stunted, watching Helena let it all out on the man who claimed he never did it. The daughter stood, yelling at her stepfather agreeing with Helena. She shook her hand and thanked her, marching toward the stairs, claiming she was moving out. Her stepfather sent a look to Helena, who gave a shit eating grin and waved as he chased after his daughter. Molly quickly noted that down, as Helena took a seat on the couch with a sigh.

She missed this.

Sherlock finished his call, looking to the girls. "Next client?" Helena asked.

"Better."

* * *

It felt like forever since Helena had followed with Sherlock to a crime scene. The chills up her spine and hair standing on her arms made her feel alive once again. Arriving at the home, they found Lestrade standing outside waiting. It was one thing to see Molly, but spotting Helena was another.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" He asked, as she came over to give him a hug.

"Came for a visit, quite the timing, huh?" She asked, glancing to Sherlock.

Lestrade grinned, seeing the odd couple back together. He can only imagine how her reaction to his return was. "Well, your timing seems perfect either way."

Lestrade led them inside a home where the basement door was covered in police tape. Someone had found the room and reported the sight to the cops. "This one's got us all baffled." He told them, tearing away the tape for them to enter.

"Hmm, I don't doubt it." Sherlock replied.

Lestrade went down first, Sherlock following with Molly and Helena tailing after. Helena grew nervous as the darkness came in, instinctively grabbing Molly's coat sleeve. She glanced back, pausing as they were at the hole of a brick wall.

"Sorry," She chuckled nervously, motioning at her eyes. "Can't see well in the-"

"Ohh!" Molly suddenly forgot her condition! How could she? "Here." She offered her hand, Helena took it and allowed her to guide her into the room with the men.

Lestrade got the black lights on first, then the second lights to show them the sight they found. There was a single desk covered in dust and years old cobwebs. A glass, old lantern, but what caught the attention more was the well dressed skeleton sitting at the desk.

Sherlock squinted at it, it was up his ally for sure. He approached the table and got to work on examining the bones with his magnifier. Helena stood by Molly who had her pen and paper ready to note down anything important.

He leaned down looking closely at the arm and suit. A scent caught his attention, some type of wood. Pine? No, maybe spruce? No, no. cedar is what he smelled. Another scent with it, new mothballs, used for storage. He sniffed more, getting a carbon particle, resulting to the answer of fire damage.

Sherlock stood straight and snapped his magnifier close, pulling his sell out. He raised it up to find a service "What is it?" Molly asked, so eager to find out. "You're onto something, aren't you?"

"Maybe." Sherlock mumbled, placing his phone back in his pocket.

_Show off_

"Shut up, John." Sherlock whispering, hearing the words as if he was standing right there.

"What?" Molly and Helena looked up, hearing him mumble something.

"Nothing." Sherlock dismissed, continuing his examination of the skeleton.

Lestrade was curious and leaned over to Sherlock, though he knew better than to bother him. He still asked, "This gonna to be your new arrangement, is it?" He asked, referring to Molly instead of John."

"Just giving it a go." Sherlock calmly replied, not even bothered by the question.

"Right." Greg glanced to Molly who start noting down her own things she had noticed. Helena stood by, arms crossed as she eyed up the skeleton. "So, John?"

Sherlock stood, stealing a glance to Greg before moving past him. "Not really in the picture anymore."

He stepped back, giving the scene a look as his mind got to work. The walls shook as the dust started to fall from the concrete walls and ceiling. "Trains?" Molly inquired, not realizing how close to the tracks they were.

"Trains." Sherlock confirmed, crouching down as he figured with a mental compass of the orientation of the room.

Molly walked over, she herself started to examine the bones as she had worked with corpses before. Helena watched with interest as she carefully stepped over to stand by Lestrade. She couldn't see the side glance he gave her, he assumed she was focused on the scene before her.

"Male, forty to fifty." Molly said, as Sherlock stood and walked over to her to see the bones once more. She looked to him, feeling she overstepped her boundaries. "Oh, sorry, did you want to be-"

"Er, no, please." Sherlock stepped back, giving her space to do her work. "Be my guest."

_You jealous?_

Sherlock gritted his teeth hearing those words in his head. "Shut up!" He growled to himself.

Molly and the two heard that clear as day, she gave them a nervous look as they sent a confusing one right back. Sherlock wasn't acting himself, it was like he was arguing with someone in his mind. Sherlock looked closely at the syringe in the bony hand resting on the table surface.

"It doesn't make sense." Molly said, stepping from the bones.

Lestrade frowned, "What doesn't?" he asked.

Sherlock was gently blowing the dust off the desk surface to get a good look at the wood. Helena took careful steps to check it out from the other side.

"This skeleton, it can't be more than." She shrugged.

"Six months old." She and Sherlock said, both on the same idea.

A click was heard, Sherlock had found a hidden compartment on the side of the desk once he blew enough dust away. He reached inside gently taking out what he found to be a book. He stood, blowing more dust off, and read the title before showing it to Molly who was shocked by the words.

"Wow!" She exhaled, fascinated by how Sherlock had found that.

He dropped the book carelessly onto the table for Lestrade and Helena to see. The words were a bit hard for her to read, as she squinted at the book cover.

" 'How I Did it' By Jack the Ripper." Greg read out-loud, making Helena blink in shock.

"No way!" She grinned with Lestrade as Molly was just as surprised.

"It's impossible!" She softly exclaimed.

"Welcome to my world." Sherlock told her, stepping aside to pack up his tools in his case.

_Smart arse._

Sherlock grumbled as he waved a head over his head as if shooing a pesky fly. "I won't insult your intelligence by explaining it to you."

Lestrade shook his head, still grinning like an idiot. "No, no please! Insult away." He insisted, really wanting to know.

_You forgot to put your collar up._

Sherlock's mind was a bit muffled by that comment, obviously rushing to make his leave. But, at Greg's request he scrambled his brain up again to give his explanation. "The-the-the corpse is-is six months old; it's dressed in a shoddy Victorian outfit from a museum. It's been displayed on a dummy for many years in a case facing south-east judging from the fading of the fabric. It was sold off in a fire-damage sale a week ago." Sherlock pulled his phone out to show proof of the sale.

Greg scratched his head, taking in that information. "So the whole thing was a fake?" He asked.

"Yes." He quickly answered, turning around and heading toward the stairs.

"Looked so promising." Greg muttered, thinking this would've been a good case.

"Facile!" Sherlock called back.

"Why would someone go to all that trouble?" Molly asked.

"Why indeed, John?" Was Sherlock's careless reply not even acknowledging the correct person who asked it.

Molly and Greg shared looks as Molly stepped off to put her pen and paper away. "Well, that was fun." Helena gave a nod to Greg as she and Molly took their leave to following the detective.

* * *

It had started snowing as they left. Sherlock had to return something to a client, Molly and Helena still stuck with him as they arrived. He had contacted him after checking Greg's 'crime scene' about seeing something. Best opportunity to return the hat, Helena thought. Though she was curious to what he was eager to show Sherlock.

Outside the home, Sherlock held the hat and rung the doorbell. Some would have a buzzer or a pretty tune. Nope, instead they heard-

**Mind the gap. Mind the gap.**

Molly giggled to herself at the weird choice. It was heard when the doors to the underground tube system opened to board the trains. The door opened to the owner, the man was a bit big and looked to be someone who enjoyed solace then be out with people. Helena took that guess alone with the hat, but she's seen worse people interact in the streets. Sherlock held the hat out, the man seeing it hadn't realized he left it back apparently.

"Oh. Thanks for hanging onto it." He told, taking it from the detective.

"No problem." Sherlock dismissed. They allowed them in as he lead them into a room on the far right of the hall. "So, what's this all about, Mr. Shilcott?"

Once they entered the room, it was as if they had just entered a little boy's playroom. Model trains riding on a platform display, photos of the man in a hat with many different trains and more models were displays in a case as if trophies.

"My girlfriend is a big fan of yours." He told Sherlock.

The detective scoffed, glancing to the ladies behind him. "Girlfriend!?"

He turned back once the man looked over at the scoffing notion. "Sorry." Sherlock dropped his smirk. "Do go on."

"I like trains." The man stated, as if the room wasn't a hint to that already.

"Yes…" Sherlock lingered, wondering what that had to do with them coming here.

"Pretty obvious." Helena muttered, earning a sharp look from Sherlock.

"I work on the tube, on the District Line, and part of my job is to wipe the security footage after its been cleared." He explained, leading up to the reason of them coming here- Helena hoped. "I was just whizzing through and I found something a bit bizarre."

Howard turned onto his monitors as Sherlock turned to the girls giving a silent 'ooh!' to them. Molly smiled as Helena rolled his eyes. She was honestly impressed how behaved Sherlock had been all day.

Sherlock and the girls wandered up behind Howard as he got the footage ready he was talking about. On the uncolored security footage, a man in a nice business suit stood on the platform waiting to board the train with a briefcase in his hand. Helena frowned, everything seemed normal- So far.

"Saw, this was a week ago. The last train on the Friday night, Westminster Station Now, this man gets into the last car." Howard explained as the video did show the man boarding and the train leaving the station.

"Car?" Molly questioned.

The man hung his head back, as if he was told the most annoying thing in the world. "They're _cars_, not _carriages_." He emphasized at her. "It's a legacy of the early American involvement in the Tube system."

Molly turned and gave the two a look, as if she couldn't believe how obsessive this guy was to correct her. "He said he liked trains." Sherlock teasingly warned, getting Molly to bit back a laugh.

Howard got the next footage ready, the train arriving to a stop. "And the next stop is St. James Park Station and…" The footage revealed the doors opening, but no one leaving, not even the suited man seen in the last station.

Suddenly this captured Sherlock's interest, as he focused on the clip before him. The doors closed again as no one had left.

"Thought you'd like it." Howard brought back up the clip before on the first monitor. "He gets into the last car at Westminster. The only passenger." They looked back to the second clip, seeing not a single sign of life in the video or the train. Howard showed different camera angles proving no one was on that train.

"Explain that, Mr. Holmes."

"Couldn't he have just jumped off?" Molly asked.

Howard turned to her, "There's a safety mechanism that prevents the doors from opening in transit. But there's something else," he added. "The driver of that train hasn't been to work since."

Now that was interesting indeed. Helena crossed her arms, listening to Howard as intently as Sherlock was. "According to his flatmate, he's on holiday. Came into some money."

"Bought off." Sherlock and Helena both said, Sherlock looked to Molly for her input.

"Hmm?" She must not have been paying attention, Sherlock gave her this look as if disappointed she hadn't been listening and focused back to Howard. Molly glanced down, knowing she should've been listening than dazing into space.

"So the driver of the train was on it, then the passenger _did _get off." He told.

"Question is where and why?" Helena pondered, tapping her knuckle to her chin.

"There's nowhere he could go." Howard told. "It's a straight run on the District Line between the two stations."

Helena frowned looking to Howard. "Not even a tunnel for emergency exit or anything?"

He shook his head, "There's not side tunnels, no maintenance tunnels. Nothing on any map. Nothing." Howard assured.

Maybe not his map, but Sherlock's map might. He turned to Helena, looking down at her. "Anything on that map of yours?"

Helena grimaced with a sigh. "No, I never took the Tube. So, wouldn't know. My only guess would be to search those stations to see myself."

"With the high security, and danger of those tracks, I wouldn't advise it." Howard told her.

She nodded with agreement, mouthing a 'sorry' to Sherlock.

"The train never stops and the man vanishes." Howard grinned at Sherlock. "Good, innit?"

"I know that face." Sherlock muttered, he thanked Howard and took his leave of his flat.

Molly and Helena eventually took lead to heading down the stairs of the building. But soon stopped when they found Sherlock not with them. Helena knew that look, stance, his whole demeanor screaming he was in his mind palace. Molly stepped up, but Helena stopped her. She gave a glance, as Helena's small smile said he would respond in a bit.

And in a bit he did.

"The journey between those stations usually takes five minutes. That journey took _ten_ minutes – ten minutes to get from Westminster to St James's Park." His eyes fell on the women at the bottom step. "So I'm going to need maps – lots of maps, older maps, all the maps."

Helena nodded, she'd get right on that.

Sherlock walked down passing the two. "Fancy some chips?" He offered them.

"What?" Molly questioned, never offered to do anything with Sherlock- especially lunch, dinner, meal. In fact nothing eating related since he never ate during his cases!

"I know a fantastic fish shop just off Marylebone Road. The owner always gives me extra portions." They walked around the next landing heading down the last flight of stairs.

"Did you get him off a murder charge?" Molly asked.

"No, helped him put up some shelves." He answered.

Molly lingered on the steps as she watched Sherlock and Helena get to the bottom. "Sherlock?"

"Hmm?" The two turned to her as she slowly made her way down. "What was today about?"

"Saying thank you." Sherlock honestly answered.

"For what?" She asked, confused.

Helena looked between the two as she bundled her coat up for the snow outside. "For everything you did for me," His eyes softened as they fell on Helena standing by the door ready to leave. "And Helena."

Molly reached the bottom, brushing off his gratitude. "It's okay, it's my pleasure."

"No. I meant it." She paused, looking up at him.

Molly shifted her footing. "I don't mean pleasure, I mean I don't mind." Feeling maybe her words were jumbled to responding to him. "I mean, I wanted to-"

"Moriarty slipped up, he made a mistake." He told, voice low for Helena not to hear as she was texting on her phone. No doubt talking to Dally at the moment. "Because the one person he thought didn't matter at all to me was the one person that mattered the most. You made it all possible."

Sherlock took a breath, tilting his head. "But you can't do this again, can you?"

Sherlock knew this wasn't Molly's interest or job. She had a real job and she knew she could never replace John. Though she did have fun and got a glimpse of what working with Sherlock was like to Helena and John. But, it just wasn't for her and she knew that.

"I've had a lovely day. I'd love to, I just, um-"

"Congratulations, by the way." He said, looking down to see a small diamond engagement ring worn on her small finger.

She had moved on, and Molly was proud of herself to be able to. "He's not from work." She told, avoiding the gaze Sherlock presented her. Though he smiled when she looked up, genuine real smile. He was happy for her.

"We met through friends, the old-fashioned way. He's nice. We-we've got a dog, we-we go to the pub on weekends and he- I've met his mum and dad and his friends and all his family. I've no idea why I'm telling you this." She chuckled nervously, seeing she had ranted off at him.

But Sherlock didn't care. Sure, he would've shut her up and not mention the ring before unless it was a rude comment to her before. But, after all she had done to help him and protect those he loved, he was willing to let her ramble as much as she wanted.

"I hope you'll be very happy, Molly Hooper." He told her, Helena glanced over done texting on her phone. "After all, not all the men you fall for can turn out to be sociopaths." He joked.

"No?" She asked softly.

"No." Sherlock assured.

Helena watched as Sherlock smiled down at her. Though Molly felt he knew what he was going to do. She held a hand open to him, to give a polite shake. He was a bit taken back, but when her eyes darted to Helena's location he nodded. He shook her hand giving one more smile and nodded to her in thanks once more.

Helena smiled as Sherlock walked outside with her. The two walked down the walkways, he popped his collar as the snow fell gently onto the city of London. He tightened the coat around him and looked down as Helena took out the old faded scarf he once wore. She glanced up, finding him grinning down as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder walking down the road. Helena wrapped the old scarf around her neck and enjoyed the warmth Sherlock gave beside her.

Molly left the building, watching the couple walk side by side. She slipped on her gloves and adjusted her long scarf for the walk home.

"Are you still up for fish and chips?" Sherlock asked her.

Helena scoffed, "Do you even need to ask?" she joked.

"How's Dally?" He asked, arms securely around her shoulders as they took their time walking. It was growing dark, as Sherlock kept her close for her safety and warmth.

"She's good. She told me her essay got a good grade and she's doing well on the piano." Helena informed.

Sherlock's brows knotted, "Piano?" he questioned. "Not the violin."

Helena shook her head, "She felt frustrated with it and decided to go for the piano. Her favorite piece to play is, ah whats it called." she snapped her fingers trying to remember the name.

Sherlock allowed her to search on her phone for the music piece she mentioned. They silently walked to the chip shop, letting her take her time to find the song Dally liked. Once they entered, it had gotten dark as Sherlock got to ordering two servings of fish and chips to go.

"Ah, here it is!" Helena cheered, as Sherlock turned to her after paying. "Saint-Saens Danse Macabre, that's the song she's learning to play."

"By her choice?" Helena nodded at his question. His brows knotted, but rose up and he tilted his head. "Impressive. Although it sounds better on the violin."

Helena shoved his arm earning a smirk as she out her phone away. She heaved a sigh, shoving her hands into her coat pocket. "So, things are thick between you and John?"

"I could say the same to you." He retorted, earning an eye roll.

"John took his choice." She told him.

"Yes, and he took another choice with me." Sherlock sighed.

The sound of sizzling and things frying from the kitchen filled their silence. Helena thought back, and looked up at him, adjusting her glasses. "...You said he was on a date, right?"

"Hm-hmm." He hummed.

"Was the girl boring?" She asked.

Sherlock thought back on the woman, Mary. Boring isn't a word he would use, but interesting felt too far. She was different, that was for sure.

"I'd imagine she encouraged John to pound a few in you, yeah?" Helena asked, shaking her head.

"Actually, she was trying to calm him down." Sherlock countered, earning a look from her. "She said she would help him come around."

"Really?" Helena squeaked, with a higher pitch. "I don't believe it." She doubted, looking around the small shop. "If that were true, why didn't John contact you or come visit? Why didn't he ever call or check in. Why didn't he ever try!?"

Helena's voice rose in the final question, gaining looks from some customers. Sherlock had already been thrown out of three establishments and prefer to keep it as such. He stepped up to Helena, tilting his head to see the scowl in her features as she glared at the wall.

"Helena-"

"All ready to go!" Called the cook, placing the go to styrofoam containers in front of them.

Helena and Sherlock nodded in thanks and left to go back to the flat. The walk was silent, Helena kept the container close to help warm her hands. Sherlock resisted to ask for a few blocks before the cold snowy silent walk was eating at him.

"John never kept in contact?" Sherlock asked, wanting to figure out her recent release of anger in the shop. Helena shook her head, the detective frowned. Did his fake death cause the riff?

Reaching the flat, Helena stopped in front of the door looking to Sherlock. "Whatever happened back then, after you 'died', things changed for everyone. Be it both good and bad, it's the paths we choose."

She sighed, glancing down at the wet pavement before looking back up, The snow had finally stopped by now. Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, but Helena beat him to it. "John doesn't want us in our lives anymore. That's the end of it."

Helena opened the door to the flat, bounding up the steps wanting to eat her small dinner. Sherlock sighed, he expected some tiny changes- maybe. Only thing to change was Dally growing up. Instead, his friend and girlfriend hated each other and refused to try to sort things out. Last he checked, he was a detective, not a therapist.

He followed in, shutting the door behind him. He got up to the landing, seeing Helena remove her coat and go to town on her fish and chips at the coffee table. "Shall I get us a drink?" She asked, as Sherlock opened his container at the landing in front of the door, nodding.

As Helena stood and walked into the kitchen, they heard knocking on the door. Sherlock ignored it, assuming it was a client to which he would have to decline being so late at night.

"Oh, Mrs. Hudson." A female voice greeted, though not in a happy tone. "Sorry, I think someone's got John- John Watson?"

Those words caught Sherlock's attention immediately. That voice, it was Mary, she sounded panicked as Mrs. Hudson questioned who she was down the stairs. Helena frowned in the kitchen hearing Mrs. Hudson's yelling, putting the lemonade down and approaching Sherlock.

"Mary?" He called, coming out of the room as Helena followed. "What's wrong?"

A short haired blonde woman came up the stairs in a hurry wearing a thick red coat. Helena took her in, seeing how she showed Sherlock a text on her phone. Helena then looked at her again, wait, _the_ Mary? The Mary John was at the dinner with?

"At first I thought it was just a Bible thing," She started, pulling up the text she received. "You know, spam, but it's not. It's a skip code."

Sherlock gave a short glance to Mary before reading the text. Sherlock red the words and deciphered the code. Helena just stood by like a traffic cone, not knowing what exactly was going on.

**Save **souls Now!  
**John **or James **Watson?**

"First word, then every third." Sherlock figured, "'Save John Watson'."

Helena felt her stomach sink, "Save John?" she questioned.

The next text was deciphered next.

**Saint** or Sinner?  
**James** or John?  
**The **more is **Less?**

"Now!" Sherlock dropped his food carelessly onto the floor and ran down the stairs. Helena and Mary followed after.

"Where are we going?" Mary asked, not knowing where John was.

"St. James The Less, its a church. Twenty minutes by car." Sherlock told, as he rushed outside.

Grasping the situation, Helena instantly mapped out a route and ran up to Sherlock. "I got a route that can get you there sooner."

"Not without a faster transportation." He denied, looking to Mary. "Did you drive here?"

"Er, yes!" Mary answered.

"It's too slow, it's too slow." Sherlock paced the road.

Helena got in front of him. "You know I can get there sooner, I'll take my route and-" She was about to run past him but he grabbed her arm.

"No" He barked, tugging her back and toward the walkway as a car came by blaring their own at the two. "You stay here, Mary and I will get to John."

Helena argued, getting her arm free from his grip. "You know you either high jack a motorbike or I go running on ahead!"

"You can barely see!" He yelled at her, making her fuming when he pointed that out. "Stay. Here." He demanded, stepping back into the road.

"What are you waiting for!?" Mary asked as another car swerved out from hitting Sherlock.

The motor humming its way toward them caught his attention. Well, motorbike it was. "This." He held a hand up, stopping the two on the motorbike before they could plow into Sherlock.

"I need this! It's an emergency! Police!" Sherlock barked out any excuse to get the bike from the two. Sherlock placed the driver's helmet on, and Mary followed with placing the second helmet on to join Sherlock.

"Helena!" He called, climbing onto the bike. "Do _not_ leave this flat. Is that clear?"

Before getting an answer, Mary climbed on behind him and the two rode off. The motor roaring down the street as the two bikers were a bit stunned by the possible loss of the bike.

Stay there? But, she couldn't just go with them? Why didn't Mary just follow in her car and she rode with Sherlock. Panic started to rise as she felt her distance with Sherlock grow farther. She didn't want to leave his side, she had to help. That was how Helena Shaw worked.

"No blindness is going to stop me." She hissed.

Helena ran across the street and started her way to shimmy up a drain pipe. She managed to get to the roof almost slipping once, but found her grip once she got on top. Her mind map laid out the route to the church she was familiar with. If she cross the city right, she might even beat Sherlock to the church.

* * *

**Thanks Utau54 for the follows and favorites!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Nearly 3 months left of this year. Anyone expect 2021 to be the savior or the second ring of this hell?**

* * *

The feeling of the adrenaline fueled her veins and pounding heart in her chest, it was almost new to her. Two years she's lived a mundane life and never had Helena thought she could find herself doing this again. Jumping rooftops and maneuvering through alleys. Helena had ignored her handicap of her sight and fully relied onto her Mind Map. She knew the distance of her jumps, the timing, and when to expect the landing. It was like watching Dally jump on her horse, she timed it and made the right position to prepare for the impact of lading.

All this was making her feel like that young homeless girl who ran from the police after stealing something. The good old days…

Her excitement came to a crushing end when she felt her footing miss a gap between building, falling into the alley. Her arms wildly waved as her scream erupted from her throat. Her hands thankfully found cold metal, almost slipping from the wet residue thanks to the recent snowfall. She tightened her grip, and swung her legs to hook into the lower bars. Helena clung herself onto the metal siding of the fire escape, as if a cat clinging to a tree branch.

That feeling of adrenaline no longer felt as great as now, her eyes shifted downward finding the cement below her, dumpster and trash bins below her. If the concrete below didn't kill her, for sure the bins and trash would cause more damage to her near impending fall. Her heart pounded but it hurt, out of fear instead of excitement. It was a mistake, she let her stubbornness take over proving Sherlock right- No surprise there.

Helena had to admit not to anyone but herself, times had changed drastically for her. Two years of being out of London, living in the country as a mother and waitress- The mundane life of a normal person.

No longer was she Hawkeye.

No longer did she parkour her way around the city.

No longer was she a homeless woman fighting to survive.

Helena Shaw was now just like everyone else, only worse.

She was a normal _blind_ person.

* * *

After that terrifying ordeal for Sherlock and Mary, John was saved from the deadly fire pit he was trapped in. Mary was with him at the hospital as he got his injuries looked at. Thankfully no burns, but some cuts and a head injury. Mary promised to keep him posted, knowing Sherlock was concerned for leaving Helena alone at the flat.

Sherlock arrived back at 221b feeling his heart rate finally calm down as he entered the threshold. Though it started to rise at the reminder than Helena was left here, not all alone of course as Mrs. Hudson was downstairs. Thought it looked dark up in the window when he pulled up, and no light was illuminating the hall as he walked up the stairs.

He found the place dark, pitch black as no lights were on. Some were shining through the windows from the street lights, but not enough to know if anyone was in the room. He switched a light on, finding the room indeed empty. Maybe Helena had gone to bed?

The detective removed his coat and scarf, careful of his steps as he tread lightly down the hall to his bedroom. He leaned against the frame, his long fingers gently gripping the doorknob as he twisted it and slowly pushed the door open. Just as dark in there, he leaned toward his lamp at the bedside and switched it on. His heart sank at the sight of the room completely empty, and panic rose in his chest.

After what had just happened to John, had someone taken Helena as well!?

Sherlock rushed back into the other room, grabbing his coat to find his cellphone to contact Lestrade. He was one button away when he heard the front door slam shut. He twisted as the footsteps echoed up the stairs, and some thudding indicated a step was missed. Sherlock knew that was Helena.

He walked over to the landing, finding Helena rubbing her knee at second landing. She tripped and her knee hit the step instead. She glanced up, continuing to walk as if she didn't see Sherlock. He stepped aside as she slowly shuffled into the room toward John's old chair and falling into it with a sigh. Sherlock stood there silently, watching her take a few steps, he saw she looked a tad ragged and some dirt was on the knees of her jeans. She breathed as evenly through her nose as possible, and noticed a tinge of a glare in her eyes as she stared off where his chair sat. Her figure shivered from being out in the recent cold, though she tried not to show it.

"Go on." She said, gaining his attention. "Tell me off." Helena sighed once more through her chapped lips.

"Tell you off over what?" He asked, closing the door and striding over to sit across from her.

Helena groaned, leaning onto her elbows, her gaze shifting to her wet shoes. "How I went off and ignored what you said. I could've gotten hurt, hit by a car, kidnapped- all that and more." She reached up and ruffled the wetness from her hair. He had noticed some snow melting on her coat and the faded old scarf he used to wear.

Sherlock moved to the edge of his seat, reaching over for her cold wet hand. He knew what had happened-

Helena tried to run along the roofs, and found herself stuck from near falling. She had no choice but to climb down and fell into a pile of shoveled snow, thankfully for her. She crawled out, and tripped almost falling into a dirty puddle at the curb as she made her way back.

The woman sat in the chair, as the cushion soaked in her wet clothes. She tried to hide the shiver in her bones and sniffled, not from a need to cry, but a possible cold reverberating in her system. Sherlock let her go and stood, walking toward the bathroom. Helena tilted her head towards the hall, hearing the shower turn on and Sherlock's light steps echoing back to her.

His hand rested on her elbow and back, encouraging her to stand. She did so, allowing him to remove the scarf and coat off her thin frame. He tossed it onto the couch and guided her down the hall, Helena saw the light shining in the bathroom. Entering she noticed Sherlock filling the tub with hot water, steam fogging up the mirror and her glasses. The room had felt warm alone, as she walked over feeling the hot water.

"Thanks, Sherlock." She told, turning to see him shut the door- him still in the room.

Sherlock said no word, as he walked up to her, removing her glasses from her face and placing them beside the sink. "If you don't remove those clothes and get warm, you'll catch a cold." He said, reaching down to the bottom of her shirt circling her waist.

Helena's face grew hot as she grabbed his hands and stepped back, near bumping into the tub. "I can get undress myself, Sherlock!" She defended, voice echoed in the small room. "Just... Go, uh, start a fire up or something. I'll get a bath- Thank you."

Her voice quivered, but stood firm to him. Sherlock didn't seem to realize what he was going to do. He cleared his throat and nodded. "Of course." He turned and left the room.

Helena leaned against the tub, sighing heavily as she felt her heart racing in her chest. Sherlock didn't seem phased at all at what he was about to do. He was in auto pilot for that, a function she didn't know he could be in. He's always aware of what he's doing, but at this point _he _hadn't even realized it.

Deciding to not let the warm water get cold, Helena carefully removed her cold wet clothes. They dropped to the floor in a pile around her shoes, removing those and we wet soaks last. The shiver up her spin hit once she slid in slowly, sighing as her body accepted the warmth around her. Her hair dipped into the water, feeling the only coldness in her bones in her skull. With a breath, Helena dunked her head under the water and rose back up, feeling the warm water drip down her face and off the ends of her hair.

Sherlock was sure to be preparing to yell at her once she was done, tell how stupid she was, how she could've gotten hurt or killed. He had just gotten back from whatever happened to John-

Helena shot up in the tub, the water waved about as her head spun at the door. "Sherlock!?"

There was a pause, then she heard his footsteps approach the door. "Yes?" He called through.

"What happened to John? Is he okay?" She asked, leaning forward against the tub, gripping the edge.

"He's alright, I'll explain everything once you're done." He told, then after a few silent seconds he walked back down the hall.

Helena sighed heavily, resting her head on the edge and shaking it slowly. Deciding the warmth flooded her bones enough, Helena slowly and gently got out, drained the tub and wrapped up in a bathroom hung on the door. She tightly tied the blue robe around her frame and used a hanging towel to dry her hair best she could.

With one more sigh, Helena put her glasses on and shut the light off once she opened the door. Despite finding herself in darkness, she had memorized the flat to know to turn right down the hall and go through the kitchen to the sitting room. The fire was heard crackling, but the lights in the room helped her see Sherlock sitting in his chair just staring at the fire. With a dry swallow, she moved into the room and sat down across from him, tucking hair behind her ear she looked up at Sherlock.

"Okay, give it to me." She muttered, biting her inner cheek.

Sherlock's eyes shifted to her, his long fingers resting on his chin as he leaned back in his chair. "John had been taken, and with clues sent to us via text, we found him trapped in a burning bonfire."

Really expecting the scolding still, Helena's eyes went wide at the information given. "Someone tried to burn him alive?"

"The people at the event had no ill intention. In fact, they had no clue he was even there until we got there." He explained. "Mary is taking care of him right now, he's in good hands."

Helena nodded, tucking the robe to lift her legs and hug them. "Glad he's okay."

"Despite the row between you two?" Sherlock inquired.

Helena nodded, looking toward the fire. "I never wished for him to get hurt or killed, sure I'm still mad. But, I don't want anything bad to happen to him."

Sherlock nodded, sighing which was a rare thing for the man to do. Helena glanced at him, when was he going to get to the point?

"I'm not cross with you." He started, the two locking eyes finally. "Worried. Scared, even. I thought someone had come and taken you like John, but hearing you arrive made those thoughts die down."

"Sherlock-"

The man stood and took a few steps leaning over the chair, pressing his lips to hers in a short kiss. Her face was warm, still not used to how forward Sherlock had become. His blue eyes gazing down at her, his hand reaching over hers.

"I love you, Helena Shaw. I-I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you." She felt his fingers tangled with hers as his other hand cupped her cheek. "I know you; you're expecting me to yell and call you stupid, how moronic it was for going off like that. But, I won't."

His thumb rubbed her cheek bone, she instinctively leaned into his touch. His long fingers reaching the fringes of her hair line by her ear sending chills down her spine. "I love you, Sherlock. I just- I really thought I could do it. But- I was wrong, those days are behind me."

Her head tried to duck down, feeling shame rising in her chest. His hand rose up now cupping her face, refusing to let her gaze break from his. "I'm sorry." He whispered, eyes full of sorrow and guilt. As if it was his fault her sight was going, her need and want to explore the city like the old days was his fault.

"Sherlock-"

"I brought you back into this," He said. "I gave you the false hope that everything would go back to normal, but not everything can." His eyes fell toward her right eye, seeing the small dark stain in her eye. "Not everything can be-"

Helena cut him off. "Sherlock, Sherlock!" Her hands rose to take his, gripping them. "Do you think that running around this bloody city is all I care about?"

She moved to stand, he stepped back allowing her to stand before him. The light of the fire danced upon their faces as it crackled in the night. Helena kissed his knuckles and smiled up at him.

"Just seeing you again, that's enough for me. I thought the last time I'd see you was on that roof. But here you are standing before me." Despite the sting it caused, her eyes teared up. She blinked, smiling against the pain as they fell down her cheeks.

"Sherlock Holmes, I'd rather lose my sight if it means being with you again. If that's what it takes, then so be it."

The tall man bit his cheek, wrapped his arms around her and held her close. It hurt to hear her say that, feeling her arms hug him tightly, gripping the back of his blazer. He couldn't let her lose her sight, he frowned as he felt her snuggled into his arms, sniffling against him. His hands skimmed over her back in means to comfort her.

Sherlock Holmes would fix her.

* * *

The next morning rose to her in a blur. She hummed, turning in the nice warm bed of Sherlock Holmes. How could he not stay in this bed when it was so comfy and warm? Even before she started finding this bed as a place to sleep, he never really slept in it.

Helena rolled over and snuggled into the pillow, she winced and sat up rubbing her eyes. "Eye drops." She mumbled, reaching the bedside, but only found her glasses, clock, and lamp.

Squinting at her memory, Helena forgot she left them in the bathroom. She sat up, feeling a chill in the air as the blanket fell off her figure. Helena shuffled to her suitcase at the end of the bed, pulling a dark blue hoodie on and letting the hoode rest over her head. With a sigh, she moved to the bathroom door and found her glasses on the sink. After wiping them clean of any smudges from yesterday she put them on, feeling her vision slightly improve. Be it true or a placebo effect, she didn't know. Her eyes scanned around the bathroom trying to find the eye drops- nowhere in sight.

Helena groaned, were they in the _other _room? She peeked back into the bedroom and saw the clock read it was the AM, so it was still morning as the sounds of life were heard outside. Voices. It wasn't that she wanted to go back to bed or just sleep into the afternoon, but she didn't want to interrupt whatever clients Sherlock was talking to.

Though the longer she'd wait, the more her eyes would hurt. She wouldn't be able to wait, and would have to search for the eye drops. Another sigh escaped her lips. Well, Helena had a doctor's appointment later today, she may as well get dressed.

Helena stripped off her sleepwear and fished through her suitcase to put on a maroon jumper and dark jeans. With her shoes slipped on, Helena exited the bedroom and walked into the kitchen hearing a woman talking endlessly with a man adding into the 'conversation' from time to time. She peeked in spotting Sherlock sitting in his chair, he looked tense and inpatient. His head was bowing down until he jerked it up, was he falling asleep? He might not have had a good sleep last night, a hint of guilt knocking at the back of her head.

Squinting her eyes she could see the eye drops on the table beside him as he steepled his fingers looking forward. Sherlock then saw her, brows furrowing to see her about to enter the room. He gave a side glance to whoever was talking and gently shook his head at him, telling her no. She paused, frowning at his actions. His head tilted to the side, questioning if she needed anything. Helena pointed to her eyes, then to his left. Sherlock glanced down and spotted the small bottle of her eye drops. He held a finger and stood, buttoning his blazer and marching toward the other end of the room. Sherlock never usually never kept her from seeing clients, what made this one different?

"So did you find it eventually, your lottery ticket?" He asked, sounding uninterested but enough to amuse the woman.

Thinking nothing of it, Helena went to work making herself a small breakfast. She didn't try to be quiet until the clang of the cooking pan hit the stove top when she heard the woman's ranting come to a pause.

"Is someone else here?" She asked. "Have visitors over?"

Sherlock dismissed it, "Hearing things. Must be the landlady." he told her.

Weird. Sherlock was really keeping her out of the radar this time. Curiosity got the better of her, and she peeked around the corner of the hall looking into the room. An older couple sat on the sofa, with Sherlock standing between them on said sofa. Helena noticed unlike most clients, they didn't seem to be deterred by his nonsense. The woman continued away about the tickets and the man sat there watching Sherlock who was checking over his investigation pinned to the wall.

Helena was so intrigued she hadn't noticed footsteps up the stairs. Suddenly John Watson came into her view, making her jump back. The two shared a look, him not expecting to see her at all, and vice versa. Well, just as Sherlock said, he was in one piece besides the scrapes and cuts on his face.

"Erm, Hi, Hele-"

She didn't even let him finish, as she turned away and returned to the kitchen. She held her breath, waiting for him to follow her, but hearing Sherlock say his name made her sigh. She leaned on the counter and sighed, taking her glasses off to rub her eyes. Helena could hear Sherlock ushering the two out, placing her glasses back while watching John wander the flat and keeping his sights out of the kitchen. Possibly feeling the same idea to not talk to her now. Eventually the two left and Sherlock gave an apology to John.

"No, it's fine." John assured. "Clients?"

Sherlock hesitated, but finally answered walking toward the kitchen. "Just my parents." He peeked in for a second, "You can come out Helena, apologies."

"Your parents?" John and Helena both questioned.

"In town for a few days." He told them.

John was still in shock, as was Helena. "Your parents?"

"Actually Mum and Dad?" Helena added.

"Mycroft promised to take them to a matinee of "Les Mis". Tried to talk me into doing it." Sherlock vented, not needing to go through such hell.

John moved to the window, seeing the pair climb into a called cab. "Those were your parents."

"Not adopted, as in, birth _real_ parents?" Helena questioned.

"Yes." Sherlock answered, watching them both.

"Well," John chuckled, "That is not what I expected."

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"I-I mean they're just so…" He looked to Helena then to Sherlock. "Ordinary."

Helena nodded, "They mostly talked about… Normal everyday things." she added.

Sherlock folded his hands behind his back, taking a breath, "It is a cross I must bear." he sighed.

The two chuckled, but soon stopped once they caught each other's eyes. Sherlock frowned at the sight of his best mate and girlfriend in this situation. Helena got her eye drops and removed her glasses to put them in. John looked around the flat again, giving himself space from her.

"Did they know, too?" He asked.

Sherlock just looked down at his laptop, humming in response.

"That you spend the last two years playing hide and seek." Helena frowned, eyes closed as she let the eye drops settle in.

Sherlock tried to distract himself by moving some dust off his laptop. "Maybe." He muttered.

"Ah!" John snapped his fingers. "So _that's_ why they weren't at the funeral."

Sherlock snapped his head up, "Sorry. Sorry, again." he apologies frantically.

John just hummed when Helena finally opened her eyes and placed her glasses back on. "John, leave him alone. If he's said sorry, he's sorry."

Sherlock watched as John turned toward her. "If he was truly sorry-"

"He is! How much more do you want?" She snapped at him, glaring. "Want him to kiss the ground you walk upon or grovel at your knees?"

He glared back at her, pointing a finger at her. "Helena, he put us through two years of thinking he was dead."

Helena nodded, "You don't have to remind me John, _I_ suffered too! So did Dally!" she barked.

Sherlock stepped over, not expecting this if the two saw each other. Never had they fought, argued, or even yelled at one another. How was he to expel this fight?

"Oh, does Dally know yet? That her father is back from the dead?" John questioned. "Did Sherlock phone her in or send a text?"

Despite the stinging in her eyes and a headache rising, Helena glared sharply at him. "That is none of your business." She growled. "You lost that privilege when you cut connections from us."

"Yes, and whose fault is that, Helena?" He motioned toward Sherlock.

"No." She hissed, stepped up and shoving his shoulder. "You can blame yourself." Helena pointed a finger at Sherlock, making him step back, regretting to even get near them. "You think he needs to keep apologizing, but you're no better _Watson_!"

Helena grabbed her coat and bag, stomping down the stairs. A loud slam was heard, Sherlock tensed and looked out the window seeing Helena marching down the street with her coat on. He sighed and glanced to John, who sighed deeply himself, regretting that.

Sherlock cleared his throat, stepping from the window. "See you've shaved it off." He noticed, the ghastly mustache finally gone.

"Yeah."

* * *

Despite the chilling cold winds, Dally worked hard to get Osiris to test his speed. They had done enough jumps the past few days and wanted some running in for the horse. Charlie was helping by timing them, Dally wanting to beat each time she got a better clock in. They were going until Henry would arrive to pick her up, which Charlie was glad he was a tad late today.

"Wow, running in circles." Charlie sighed, hearing the annoying voice behind him. "Looks like a load of fun to me. _Lame_!"

Charlie turned to him as Dally rode by. "It's not lame at all, Michael. Get your head out of your ass."

Michael raised a brow, "Starting to get a little tough aren't you?" he grabbed his cousin into a headlock and grind his knuckles into his skull. "Trying to show off to your girlfriend?"

"Michael! Stop that- Ow! That hurts!" Charlie whined, smacking his arm.

The teen just laughed until he earned a kick to the elbow, letting Charlie go. "Stop being a jerk." Dally told, pulling Osiris up to the gate as she glared down at him.

Michael gave a look to the girl. "Ooh, a girl is fighting your battles for you?" He laughed making Charlie blush red. "How lame are you?"

"So what if I fight his battles? My mom has done it loads of time." Michael glared up at her. "You're the one that's lame, Michael."

The teen growled and kicked the fence post, marching off grumbling to himself. Dally scoffed, "You sure you'll survive Canada with him?"

Charlie sighed, rubbing his head. "I hope so, wish I was staying here honestly."

Dally directed Osiris to the pen as he opened the gate for her to lead the horse to the stables. "When does your mom get back?" He asked Dally.

She removed the reins as he helped her with the saddle. "She was supposed to come back tomorrow, but had to extend it a few more." Dally patted Osiris' neck and got her the bag of oats.

Charlie nodded watching her care for the horse. "I was thinking, we could exchange numbers to text?" She glanced at him, his pale cheeks flushed pink. "You know, when I head to Canada. I'll-" He coughed and rubbed his neck. "I'll need something to keep me from losing my mind stuck in a holiday nightmare with Michael."

Dally giggled making him blush harder. "Charlie, you know I don't have a mobile phone." She took his hand removing his glove and got a marker off the chart on the wall. "But, here's my email."

Sound old fashion, but he completely forgot Dally wasn't all that tech savvy compared to him or other kids their age. He felt the tingle sensation up his arm as she let go. The sound of a car giving a few beeps outside in the parking lot, Henry arrived.

Taking her backpack hanging on the hook by Osiris' stable, she passed by Charlie. "Email me tonight to make sure it gets through!" Dally called, heading toward the lot.

"...Sure." Charlie squeaked, staring at his hand.

Dally waved at Henry in the car, he waved back as she opened the trunk and tossed her bag in. With a gentle slam, she rounded to the side and climbed into the passenger seat. "Hi, Henry!"

"Hey, have a good day?" He asked, making sure she buckled her seat belt.

Dally nodded with a cheerful hum. "Sure did!"

Henry backed out of the parking lot as Dally reached over to press scan on the radio. She usually just listened to the station scanned through until a song she liked started playing. "I thought we'd eat at the inn tonight, get out of the house." Henry offered as he drove.

"_In recent news, trending wildly on Twitter and other social Media, #Sherlock-" _The station was scanned past, but didn't seem to give it much mind.

"Has mom called today?" She asked, looking out the window.

Henry shook his head, "Not yet, Helena said she would after her appointment."

Dally turned to him. "How do you think it'll go?"

Hesitant in an answer, he just shrugged. "Don't know. Probably give her new glasses and refill on her eye drops. She mentioned being low before leaving."

"_Despite all the news on social media, he has been keeping out of the spotlight. Sherlock-"_

"What do you want to order at the inn?" Henry asked her.

Dally shrugged. "Do they still only sell vegetarian meals?" Henry nodded, earning a groan from her. "I might order a soup or sandwich."

"It's good to take a break from meat now and then." He tried to encourage.

"Try saying that to my eight year old self." She laughed.

"_If you want to keep yourself updated, check for tags under #SherlockLives on social media."_

The car came to a sudden halt, the brakes screeching on the thankfully empty road. The two stared at the radio with shock, Dally turned the radio up.

"Did I hear that right?" Dally questioned, then started checking through the stations to hear a different news station.

Henry raised a hand to his forehead as he silently let Dally frantically scan the stations.

"_Sherlock Lives! That is what the news is on about for the past few days. People have confirmed as he is continuing his work at 221b Baker Street. The real question is, how did he survive or fake his own death two years ago?"_

Fake death? Alive? Back to work? Dally started to feel her breathing become heavy, soon delving into hyperventilating. Henry attempted to calm her down, rolling down the window and driving the car to the side of the road. Anyway to get her fresh air to calm down. When her breathing relaxed enough, she spotted Henry's phone on the dashboard and grabbed it, dashing out of the car. She rounded to the back as Henry struggled with his seat belt. Dally went into the search site and looked up the tag on the radio, #Sherlocklives.

"Dally-"

"He's alive." She muttered, hand over her mouth as eyes teared up as she stared at the screen. Photos, posts, even video clips of her father walking around London. "My dad's alive!"

* * *

**Thanks ArsenicAssassin, MyCookiemonster95, deathXbeforeXdisco, SnowKi, Willowy Maid Thetroublewithexes, Grimstein, PanicAngel, Las84, Indigoelm, ,XxxCornishCortexXX, Althera Lavellan, PeriAce, Mel2121, jannekevandelaar, UmiNight Angel Neko, .Girl, Sabrialluna, Mailani14, The Otaku Lady Priya, artemis7448, BABree123, Iluvkovumiki, Draocht-Tales, Phoenix of Moonlight, sillystring-roxs-the-earth, theworldiscrazy, selene sheppard, susannepage, loveisthewayforme, moviemanic12, UzumakiPixie, luckily13, Sayer Rose, Binotm, TheDdraigCoch, Shade Sparda, , emeraldcan for the follows and favorites!**

**SnowKi- More has arrived! **

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